


fear no fate

by timequakes



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, F/F, F/M, Gen, Team Dynamics, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-03
Updated: 2014-04-05
Packaged: 2017-12-10 07:32:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 103,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/783445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timequakes/pseuds/timequakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>hope discovers a way of life she never could have imagined fits her better than any she's tried so far. alex's status quo is flipped upside down, abby deals with feeling truly threatened for the first time in her life, kelley takes on a responsibility that might be too much for her to chew, and tobin tries to keep up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. part one

**Author's Note:**

> please notice the archive warning: some parts of this fic will describe violence, and while i don't consider the way i write it to be particularly graphic, i wanted to be safe. first bit is rated t+ for strong language. i didn't list any ships because i'd like to leave that up to interpretation; this won't be posted in chapters as much as it will be posted in a smaller number of longer parts, so don't expect updates like every four days. this is going to take a while, it's detailed plot-wise and difficult to write, so please be patient and enjoy!

It’s not exactly an unpredictable situation, if she’s being completely honest with herself. And, actually, there had been a part of her that had known going into it that going out alone was probably going to get her in trouble, but she needed a drink and she was new to the area and she certainly wasn’t going to drag her hypervocal newlywed coworker (Diane? Dinah?) out with her for fear of having to hear another story about ‘the honeymoon to end all honeymoons’.

So Hope’s at the bar alone and she’s not exactly _surprised_ when the beery overweight business exec takes the stool next to her, just a little annoyed. He’s belligerent from the start when she refuses to let him buy her a drink (most likely because if he doesn’t buy her a drink she can’t owe him sex), but she manages to keep her cool until she stands to leave and he stands to follow with his hand on her lower back. 

She doesn’t even know his name, that’s how hard she’s been ignoring him for the past twenty minutes.

“You have three seconds to stop touching me before I break your fingers,” she snarls, shoulders tensing. 

“Come on, sweetheart-”

“Alright, one second,” she changes her mind, grabs his wrist, spins and twists her hand.

And something happens.

She had meant to cause him pain, sure, but not this. In the space of half a second her fingers get hot, her whole _arm_ gets hot and starts to tingle and there’s a flash of light where they’re touching before her skeezy admirer lets out a scream and yanks out of her grip.

There are perfect little black circles on his wrist where she touched him, the skin around rimmed in an angry red, and instinctively she knows that they’re burns.

Her hand stings again and she stumbles out of the bar clutching her purse to her, unable to breathe until she slams the door of her apartment shut a full ten minutes later. She’s shaking so hard it’s a surprise to her that she even managed to get home- and once she _is_ home, she collapses against the door, panicking and trembling and staring at her hands even as they give off a muted glow.

The glow starts at the pads of her fingers, where it’s strongest, but feathers out along each finger and along her palms and disappears under the sleeves of her shirt. Tentatively, she touches the wood floor next to her, then immediately yanks back when a crackle goes up her arm.

There’s a burn mark on the floor.

.,.

Every few minutes Kelley sneaks into the kitchen to try and steal one of the brownies cooling on the rack, and every few minutes Becky pops up out of nowhere and raises an eyebrow at her until she gives up in a huff. Abby’s slaving over two simultaneous pots of spaghetti and Lauren and Christie are attempting to set the table, but every time they do Heather and Sydney move something so when they come back they can’t tell which places are set and which aren’t. 

It’s a pretty typical night.

Well, it’s typical for a while- loud, mostly. Tobin and Amy and Lauren are the ones to pray, as usual, but they never make anyone else do it and people join whenever they want to. Christie’s at the head of the table, where she can keep an eye on everyone even though she very rarely disciplines. The brownies are still in the kitchen and Kelley is still after them when Christie calls everyone to attention and the room falls silent almost immediately.

“We need to be on the lookout,” she says. She waits for anyone to speak but nobody does, they just blink at her so she leans back a little and expounds.

“There are still five empty beds in this place, and I want to fill them if I can.”

Megan shifts a little in her chair.

“How do we know that there are five random people with powers even out there? What if we’re it?”

“You know, I asked myself that when I found Shannon and Abby. I asked myself that for a long time, but every time I do it seems like there’s someone else. This is a big city. I’m not saying we need to actively post advertisements,” that gets a laugh, if a little one, “I’m just asking that we do some casual patrols. Just keep your eyes open.”

Mostly the ‘patrols’ become excuses to go out, which Christie expected and doesn’t mind as long as everyone’s careful. Kelley and Alex and Tobin go out together enough for it to become obvious that they’re just out on the town, and Abby’s the one that points it out two weeks later. She’s afraid they’re going to expose themselves, and she’s afraid they’re not ready to integrate, but Christie dismisses it with a shrug: “They’re kids with superpowers, but they’re still _kids_. It’s not fair to ask them not to enjoy themselves like other people their age. There’s already so much they can’t do.”

It’s a good thing nobody thinks to explain that to Kelley, because _she_ integrates like she’s never been separated at all. She drags the other two to clubs, where Alex lets go and dances and gets nostalgic for college and nights without nightmares, and Tobin watches them and mostly watches Alex and smiles so hard that her face hurts by the time they go home. Alex takes them to ice cream places- they travel the whole city sampling as many as they can- and makes fun of Tobin for getting something plain almost as much as she makes fun of Kelley for her unconventional flavor choices.

“You don’t go to an ice cream place to get fruit sorbet,” she insists, digging into her salted caramel, and Kelley ignores her hard enough to make Tobin laugh.

Tobin takes them church-hunting.

She’s pentecostal but nobody would know that because she doesn’t label herself as anything other than Christian. Alex and Kelley humor her because there’s something about churches- Baptist, Catholic, Presbyterian- that soothes them all. Something quiet and cavernous and safe that makes them feel small. For Tobin, it’s the reminder that there’s something bigger than her that makes it easier to live life separate from most of the rest of the world around her. Sometimes it feels like they’re the last line of defense- and sometimes when they lose people to fires or shootings or car accidents she feels like a failure for not being able to help- but in the end it’s the reminder of God that humbles her and strengthens her all at once.

For Alex it’s seeing Tobin change. For Kelley it’s the quiet, because there’s never any for her, in her head or otherwise.

.,.

Carli takes herself out alone, because everyone else is either busy or not taking the patrols seriously. Not that she doesn’t like Megan and Sydney, or even Alex and Tobin and Kelley, but she gets the feeling that something is at stake and doesn’t like being inactive about it. Patrolling with Abby would be a good idea except that Abby always goes out with Shannon and Barnie and four’s too many, even by her own standards, to stay inconspicuous.

There’s nothing conspicuous about her when she goes out alone. She makes sure of that. She dresses just like everyone else and she sticks earbuds in her ears but attached to nothing, so she can hear just fine in case she needs to. The thing is, sound isn’t usually a good indicator- the trick is to _look_. 

There’s so much that the average person misses, especially in their rush-hour New York mindset. There are a lot of eyes downcast and there’s a lot of jostling. The quickest way to pick out someone different is if they’re still.

That’s how Carli finds Hope.

She decides to follow the bus route so that she can check out the bus stops, because that gives her a captive audience. Hope isn’t waiting for a bus, it’s just that it’s raining and she can’t be bothered to get herself wet so she’s sheltering under a bus stop and watching people walk by and wondering what the hell she’s supposed to do with herself.

She’d quit her job the morning after her experience, on a whim and partially because she was somewhat convinced that she might be dying of radioactive exposure. Because she doesn’t spend much, she has plenty saved- it took her three days to leave her apartment again and now she just walks the city trying not to look as rudderless as she feels.

Carli ducks under the bus stop and pretends she’s waiting. She checks her watch. She peers down the street. Out of her periphery she focuses on the woman to her right, dark-haired and bright-eyed and exceptionally _still_. She must be playing it too obviously, because the object of her attention starts watching her like a hawk.

It doesn’t occur to Hope to be subtle about it. This woman is acting bizarrely late for someone catching a midtown express bus that only goes to Jersey. Hope’s lived in New York for seven years and never seen someone that keen to get _to_ shithole, nowhere. So she’s staring, but she looks away after a minute and tries not to shake her head. It’s not as if she has a leg to stand on anyway, considering the fact that she’s unemployed and not even waiting for a bus. Who is she to judge?

The bus is coming, Carli can hear it. She can also tell that the other woman isn’t waiting for a bus, because she’s too far back in the shelter and she’s not moving an inch or even sparing a glance. She’s panicking now, knows she needs to touch to be sure but afraid that if she does all she’ll find is a hostile woman on her rainy day off. This is where company- Abby or Christie or _anyone_ \- would help. She takes the risk though, remembering her job and Christie’s request, reaching for the stranger’s wrist. In the half a second before the other woman jerks away, Carli knows all that she needs to know.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

Hope spits it out, but she’s shaken and feels strange and can’t place it.

“Hope, I know about your power.”

Carli always feels like a freak storyteller, even in training when people are expecting it. It’s worse now, when Hope looks at her like she _is_ a freak and she really feels it, because she knows all the way back to Hope being late to her own high school graduation, and she knows that nobody in her family was there to see it, and she knows that Hope is hiding the ability to burn right through skin and wood and cloth and tile, hiding it just under her sleeves and crackling under the surface.

Hope gapes at the stranger, but instead of shrinking back she stands a little taller, narrows her eyes. Her palms start to tingle but she fights it back- this has to be some kind of marketing ploy or magic trick of _something_ , certainly not something to zap someone for. Yet.

“How did you know my name?”

The bus stops, creaking and expelling air, and the doors open to let out a slew of passengers onto the sidewalk like water from a burst pipe.

“I know more than just your name, but I can’t tell you here.”

.,.

“Bullshit.”

Carli sighs. Hope pops her hip a little and crosses her arms.

“ _Bullshit_ , no way. You expect me to believe that there’s a little rogue group of crime-fighting, superpowered women just outside of the city, and if I go with you that’s what I’ll find and not a sketchy white van with a dude inside that’ll skin me and sell me as hamburger meat?”

“Not small,” Carli deliberates, taking it one step at a time, “It’s not a small group, but yes.”

“Then why are they all women?”

It’s a question Carli’s heard a thousand times and asked a thousand more, but not one that anyone has had an answer to. She shrugs, and Hope scoffs.

“Listen, you can’t make this stuff up. You don’t need me to tell you the powers are real, you have your own. You saw what I can do.”

When she says it, Hope stiffens, realizing that it’s not true. All she knows is Carli’s name, and that Carli had touched her and known things she couldn’t have known beforehand. She doesn’t know what that’s called or what that’s supposed to mean. For all she knows it might have been a magic trick or some sort- she might have been followed for a while beforehand and there’s no way for her to tell.

“Prove it.”

“I just did!”

Carli’s close to leaving because she can’t see how any of this could possibly be worth it just to fill another bed. She has another hour before she’s supposed to be back, and she’s antsy, but he sighs and explains as best she can in a last-ditch attempt.

“It’s called psychometry. Basically, what it means is that I can touch people and know their life stories. Like, for instance, you have a tattoo on your chest.”

“Anyone could know that,” Hope levels, “you could have found that out from Facebook.”

“Your power is the power to manipulate energy.”

Hope narrows her eyes.

That’s not something anyone would know, and it proves that the coincidence of her experience and Carli’s appearance is more than just that. She’s suspicious, but Carli’s at least an inch or two shorter and Hope is sure she could handle herself if she needed to. The truth is that her curiosity is starting to sway her more than her suspicion.

Carli can see it.

“We’re harmless, unless you’re a criminal,” she tries to joke. It falls flat because for a moment it seems like Hope doesn’t get it and thinks it’s an accusation, so she backpedals- “or, you know, I mean, that time of month.”

.,.

To Megan’s knowledge, nobody is expecting the patrols to actually _work_.

None of them appeared on a patrol. All of them were found through hearsay, or articles in the paper documenting strange incidents the police struggled to explain, or- in Tobin’s case- weren’t found at all. Tobin found _them_. Megan’s not expecting _that_ to happen again, either.

She’s on the roof when she sees them. She sees Carli first and recognizes her from blocks away, mostly by her voice. From the homemade basketball court behind and below Megan's perch, Lori calls up to her, spinning the ball in her hand. 

"You coming down, Batman?"

"Carli's got someone with her."

Lori's up on the fire escape in a heartbeat, and on the roof before Carli's even on their block. They're close enough now that Lori can see everything, from Carli’s perturbed expression to the detail on her partner’s leather jacket. The woman she's walking with is tall and dark-haired with dangerous eyes, and she's looking around like she's expecting something to jump out at her. 

"Someone should go tell Christie," Megan says, casually. Lori senses the danger, though, and immediately touches her finger to her nose, half a second before Megan manages to. 

"Ugh," Megan scoffs, kicking at Lori's leg, "I hate you."

"You love me."

...

The place Carli takes her to just looks like an apartment building. It’s weird, though, mostly because she’s _expecting_ something about it to be weird. They’re in the far reaches of TriBeCa, in a shipping area that’s all industrial but seems mostly abandoned otherwise. She can see where the ramps are that allow shipping and loading today just like they used to decades ago, and they’re just off the highway and just off the river so the smells of gas and rubber and the ocean mix strangely in the air. Strangely- but not unpleasantly. All the buildings are brick, turn-of-the-century.

It feels like a good place to get murdered.

“This is sketchy,” Hope says, pushing some stray hairs behind her ear.

“It’s plenty busy during the day,” Carli says. To illustrate her point a shipping truck on the other side of the street pops up on the curb, clanging.

“And usually the people here are too busy working to notice that we’re a residential building in the wrong zone.”

Hope interrupts her scrutiny of the street to look at Carli, who describes their isolation so casually it gives her chills.

“You don’t have a lot of friends, do you?”

That seems like a stupid question to Carli. Technically speaking, the whole group are friendly with each other- some more than others- and she never feels alone. It’s more the fact that the question occurs to Hope to _ask_ that bothers her. She doesn’t answer it. She doesn’t feel compelled to.

Hope likes her for it.

...

Christie meets them at the door.

She didn’t expect things to go so well so quickly, and when Hope walks in with a wary, self-confident vibe she immediately remembers how difficult it is to integrate someone. Especially someone who’s _not_ in their early twenties. This woman is far from impressionable, and Christie can tell she’s a firecracker from the start.

That’s why she picks Kelley.

She sends Carli to get her and leads Hope into her ‘office’, which is what used to be a kind of receptionist area when their building wasn’t a home but a hotel. The questions start early.

“How’d you get this place? What was it, a Mariott?”

“It was functioning before chain hotels,” Christie answers, nonplussed, “it was inherited.”

That’s not entirely true but there’s no better way to put it and Hope, as Carli introduced her, doesn’t question that. She has other things to question.

“So what, you’re a rogue group of lady superheroes?”

“Something like that.” 

She gestures Hope into a seat and takes her own, clearing her throat.

“We don’t call ourselves superheros. We don’t really call ourselves anything. I’ve purposely steered us away from identifying as anything other than a sort of family-style crime fighting support group. There are sixteen of us. Seventeen if you stay.”

“And why would I stay?”

Christie pauses. This answer is different for everyone, and she knows that, but ‘it depends’ is never a satisfactory answer. Kelley appears in the doorway, and just like that it occurs to her that she can save that question for another time. Hope’s antsy, a little, but glad someone’s answering questions.

The girl that’s waved into the room doesn’t strike her as particularly heroic. Not that Carli did, either, exactly- Christie certainly does- but this girl has to be in her early twenties if she’s twenty at all, short and freckly. The look on her face suggests that she might think she’s in trouble; as soon as she sees Hope she breaks into a smile of relief.

Kelley hops up onto the reception counter between them until Christie gives her a pointed look and she gets down to stand at attention the way she expects she’s supposed to.

“Kelley, this is Hope. Hope, this is Kelley. She’s going to be your guide, sort of- help you learn the ropes and talk you through our system so that you can decide for yourself if you’re cut out for the job.”

Hope works her jaw a little and Christie knows she’s figured her out. She may not have _applied_ for a job, but if Christie can convince her there’s any doubt in anyone’s mind that she’s good enough to take one she can tell Hope is the type to fight to prove herself.

...

“Okay, so here’s how it works. Basically, we live in an old hotel.”

Hope doesn’t say anything, but she’s thinking that if this girl is the type to just spew the obvious they’re not going to get along very well. Kelley’s a little nervous. She’s seen others do this job before, but she never has, and it’s not like they get trained for it. It’s just a responsibility that you’re supposed to wing, as far as she knows. Pearcie was her guide, and Pearcie _invented_ the whole system, so Kelley feels a little like she’s filling shoes that she can’t hope to fit into.

“There are sixteen of us, and each of us has a power. None of us know how we got them, so don’t bother asking. Unless, I mean- do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Know where yours came from.”

Hope shakes her head. 

“We train to learn more about our powers but we also do a lot of physical training. We’re all trained in self defense, some of us specialized more than others. We take shifts. There’s a midnight to six am, a six to noon, a noon to six, and a six to midnight. Mostly we watch the news and listen in on police chatter to see what we can do to help without getting in the way.”

“I can’t imagine anyone could get in the way of the NYPD,” Hope says, “it’s not as if they do much.”

“That’s kind of the idea,” Kelley agrees. She leads Hope into what was the hotel dining area and is now their kitchen and dining room; they knocked down the wall between the service kitchen and the main room to keep it open and it’s a strange combination of homey and commercial. Jill, Amy and Becky are on shift, sitting around the table with the radio between them and what looks like a seriously intense game of Scrabble ongoing.

Becky’s focused, tapping her pieces with one finger while she runs through her options. Too many vowels in her hand and not enough consonants on the board; one of her opponents has to be holding out. Jill’s messing with the radio, so it’s Amy that sees them first, leaning back in her chair a little. She smiles and immediately Hope is imagining _herself_ at that table. It’s been a long time since she socialized with more than one or two people at a time. It’s been an even longer time since she’s genuinely liked anyone in her life. She’s a bit at sea when Kelley tugs her by the wrist as if she’s a child.

“Guys, this is Hope, my guest. Hope, these are my guys.”

Hope doesn’t know what to do without any names give to her so she just nods a little. The woman who was handling the radio dials- the one with one of those trendy haircuts Hope has always liked but never thought would do well on her- sticks out a hand and offers a smile. That seems to be a thing, here- everyone’s smiley.

“Jill. Nice to meet you.”

It _is_ nice to meet her. The last newcomer was Megan and she hasn’t been new for at least five months. Jill sees Becky reach for her Scrabble tiles- presumably to see if she’s the culprit of the no-consonant situation- and moves them an inch away from the offending hand without lifting a finger. Hope raises an eyebrow.

“Telekinesis?”

“You got it.”

Becky rolls her eyes and reaches out to shake Hope’s hand, too. Her smile’s a little wry- Hope can tell she’s a different kind of smart than everyone else there. 

“Becky. I can possess people’s bodies, but I’m polite enough not to demonstrate.”

Jill moves Becky’s chair back a few feet and Amy and Kelley crack up over it. Even Becky’s not impervious to their infectious laughter, and Hope cracks a hesitant smile when Amy introduces herself through huffs of laughter as a shapeshifter.

“Do any of you guys work?”

Kelley frowns, a little offended, but Amy comes to the rescue as usual.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, do you have some kind of income?”

Nobody answers, and Hope takes that for what it is- a no.

“Where does the money come from for food? Are you guys sponsored?”

“We don’t ask,” is Becky’s reply, and as hard as she tries to hide that it bothers her, Hope sees it. The smiling and politeness makes sense now; they’re all hiding something or they wouldn’t be there. The glimpse into something darker, more complicated, does the opposite of scare Hope off. The intrigue is dangerous because she knows she’ll stay just to find out how it all ties together.

...

Nobody has ever asked the kind of questions that Hope does.

At least, as far as Kelley remembers, nobody has _dared_ to ask these kinds of questions. What’s strange is that it doesn’t seem like Hope has anything but respect for Christie, and it’s not like she’s asking questions just to ask them. In an attempt to show Hope the lighter side of the situation- without introducing her to Tobin and Alex, who are fun but not exactly close enough to Hope’s age to be a good first choice- Kelley draws her into the living room, where Lori and Megan are having a spirited discussion about what seems to be the winner in a fight between Santa and Satan.

Again.

“Hey, guys. This is Hope.”

Neither of them are surprised and it throws both Hope and Kelley off a little bit. Up close, Megan thinks Hope _has_ to be dangerous. It’s something about her confidence that shows it, that she’s got something that could potentially threaten their entire way of life.

She kind of likes it.

Lori’s a little more reserved.

If she wanted to she could get the whole story then and there, but she knows it’s rude to sift through peoples’ thoughts without warning and for all she knows Hope’s power might be the power to tell when someone’s reading her mind. 

“Megan here has the power to become invisible at really inopportune times,” Kelley jokes, deadpan. Hope figures that’s why Megan’s hair is dyed to be so shockingly blonde- so that whens he’s not invisible, she’s _very_ visible.

“Lori can read minds.”

Hope whistles.

“How’d you figure that one out?”

“Read my teacher’s mind in fourth grade and found out she was my mom’s lover. That was also the day I got to learn what sex is. Since that’s what she was thinking about. Sex with my mom.”

It’s almost funny, the way she says it, which is kind of the idea, but only Hope laughs and she feels awkward about it after. Lori’s not looking at her like she fucked up. She just looks sort of impassively content and it’s borderline creepy (she’s focusing intently on not reading Hope’s mind, which lends a vacant expression). 

“So does everyone here have a tragic backstory, or what?”

“I don’t!”

It’s the peroxide blonde who says it, and she says it perkily, and her shorter, less-blonde friend laughs at her but Carli doesn’t and Hope’s not sure she’s supposed to.

“I don’t _remember_ my backstory. So I pretend it’s not tragic.”

“That’s not how it works,” Lori says, like this is the first time and not the hundredth time she’s said it.

“Who died and made you queen of amnesiacs? Anyway, to answer your question truthfully, fuck yes we do all have tragic backstories, and if you don’t have one you better think one up quick.”

“I came prepared,” Hope says drily, and when Megan laughs she’s made her second friend.

About thirty seconds later she makes her first enemy.

It’s not Hope’s fault, really. At least it doesn’t start _off_ being Hope’s fault. It’s Alex who panics on sight and tenses up, and it’s Alex who asks “Who are _you_?” with an attitude, but she doesn’t mean it.

She panics when she feels a power she doesn’t recognize, and nobody’s warned her when she walks into the living room, so she isn’t prepared for the onslaught. This power isn’t like anything she’s really felt before and she fights with it and doesn’t realize how she says it, so when Hope narrows her eyes and gives her a scathing up-and-down look, the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

“Someone who doesn’t feel particularly obliged to answer your rude question.”

Alex feels her palms tingle with something unfamiliar, like the feeling of touching dry ice. Her fingertips start to glow but she doesn’t notice it until the stranger’s do, too. It’s electricity. She’s controlling electricity. Hope’s crackles, blue as her eyes, and she gets to her feet when she sees Alex’s hands, flexing. 

“Do we have an issue?” 

Alex chokes, but she’s trying to deflect it, it’s a real question- she’s not sure if Hope wants to attack her and a significant part of her is trying to control the power that’s been suddenly thrust upon her. Some are easier to control than others; this one is out of her league.

Hope’s shoulders come back and Megan gets up off the couch like she’s going to say something, but Hope speaks before she has the chance.

“Do you want one?”

.,.

"Abby!"

HAO materializes next to her out the couch so fast that Abby jumps, shattering the glass in her fist as she clenches them in second-nature defense. It stings, but she'll find Lauren later.

"There's this new girl picking one with Alex."

"And?"

Alex gets feisty - she _really_ likes to win - but she can handle herself.

"They're going to burn the whole place down."

"And Pearcie needs me to play babysitter?"

"Something like that."

.,.

For some reason Amy’s description made Abby assume this was a kid picking fights with Alex, but this woman has to be around her age, just shorter than her, with dark hair and the kind of attitude that’s obvious from across a room. The others are kind of pressed up against the walls or in doorways, watching, but nobody really wants to get involved. Abby doesn’t blame them.

Neither of them have noticed her yet so she takes a second to try and figure out what’s going on. HAO had said ‘energy manipulation, but that could mean just about anything and Abby’s never seen anything even remotely like this before. The new woman’s back is to her, so she focuses on Alex, who is standing with her arms stiff at her sides. There’s a blue glow that seems to concentrate in her fingertips and travel up her arms until it disappears under her sleeves; from here Abby can hear a faint hum and knows she has to act fast.

“Is there a problem here?”

Alex’s eyes snap to Abby’s and immediately the glow is gone from her hands and arms. She looks a little too frustrated to be guilty, crossing her arms and refusing to answer. The culprit turns and glares at Abby, who lifts her chin and raises an eyebrow. 

She fucking hates being the replacement Christie.

Nobody answers her, so she tries again, ignoring the wave of murmurs through the rest of the group- who are being predictably useless; she thinks sometimes they just like to watch her fail at being a good example- and fixing as many of them as possible with a look that she hopes comes across as stern. 

“Somebody wanna tell me what’s going on?”

“I didn’t ask to be here.”

It’s not one of the team that answers her. It’s the woman with the glow in her hands that says it, giving Abby a look that screams a challenge she itches to take. She doesn’t take the bait. Alex blends into the crowd between Barnie and Lauren, looking properly guilty now, and Abby crosses her arms.

“Then leave.”

“Uh, actually, we- we have to wait for Cap to get back for her to do that.”

Kelley peeks over Barnie’s shoulder on her tiptoes, looking at least six times more guilty than Alex could even if she wanted to (and she doesn’t; she’s only guilty for making a problem for Abby), and wishing Christie had put anyone in charge of this other than her. Abby immediately understands the subtext and heaves a deep breath. They can all see her trying not to roll her eyes into the back of her head.

“Seriously? She’s yours?”

“My name is Hope, and I don’t _belong_ to anyone.”

It’s spit at her, almost to the point that she can feel it. Alex clenches her fists and fights the urge to say or do something stupid in Abby’s defense, and Kelley squirms between Barnie and Alex to make her way into the middle of the room, hands held in front of her in a clearly helpless gesture. Abby’s annoyance spills over and she fixes Hope with a withering look. 

“Will you take a fucking breath, Jean Grey?”

Hope outright snarls, clenching her fists, and Kelley sees Abby tense up just in time to stop the inevitable train wreck. Within seconds there are three of her, two between Hope and Abby, one facing each of them.

“She means that I’m supposed to be in charge of helping you acclimate,” she- all three of her- says in tandem before she snaps back to just the one. From a far corner of the room, Carli scoffs, but when Sydney nudges her she keeps her mouth shut. Abby steps into Hope’s space, close enough that the hum from Hope’s fingertips becomes an insistent buzz, and grabs Hope by the bicep.

She exerts just enough pressure to let Hope know there’s more behind it. Hope knows immediately that this has to be Abby’s power- brute strength- but she’s still reeling from learning Kelley’s power of duplication firsthand so she doesn’t try to fight it.

“We all had a choice when we came here- adapt or leave. Since you’re not clear to leave yet, you adapt. Veteran’s tip? Try to do it without pissing people off.”

.,.

Kelley takes Hope to the third floor- the _empty_ training floor- and sits her down somewhere quiet. She’s starting to panic a little, feeling like Hope is way beyond the realm of ‘manageable’, especially for her- and it’s compounded by the fact that something about Hope is really very attractive. That’s distracting.

Kelley’s not sure what it is, either, which makes it worse. Hope doesn’t say anything, just sits there looking at her with raised eyebrows, and Kelley gets a good look at her. After a moment she decides it’s the combination of high cheekbones and square jaw, and composes herself, crossing her legs.

“You, uh. Can’t do that.”

Hope blinks, and it’s the most sarcastic thing Kelley’s ever not-heard.

“With Alex, I mean. Or, really anyone. But Especially Alex.”

“What makes her so special?”

It’s sarcastic again, but there’s a real answer, and Alex _is_ special. She’s a secret weapon of epic proportions, but Kelley’s not sure she wants to explain that part yet, so she addresses the other part first.

“Well, you know how I’m your, you know, mentor? Or guide, or whatever? When Alex was new, Abby was hers. And Abby’s really protective of Alex, because Alex has been through a lot.”

Hope looks like she might want to laugh, but she just turns to look out the window instead. It’s an old window, kind of streaked no matter how much they clean it, when the sun comes through it just right. Hope thinks it might be just ill-kept before she sees how painstakingly the sill has been maintained and painted, and it occurs to her that the whole place is kind of like that- rotting on the outside but clean on the inside. It seems backwards, considering what she’s used to.

“She’s not the only one who’s been through a lot.”

Kelley pauses a little, wondering if she’s supposed to ask for elaboration and deciding against it.

“No, you’re right. But the other thing is that Alex’s power makes her kind of hard to understand. She wasn’t trying to start something.”

Tobin hears them from the hallway and hesitates at the doorway, caught between wanting to hear the rest of the conversation and knowing she shouldn’t eavesdrop. Alex hadn’t told her much of what happened, but given the bits and pieces she overheard from the kitchen when she came inside and where she is now, she fills in the blanks. 

“What’s her power?”

“Power mimicry,” Tobin says, stepping through the threshold. Immediately Kelley’s guest spins to face her, and Tobin smiles out of instinct, offering her hand.

“I’m Tobin. I’m Alex’s roommate.”

Kelley breathes a sigh of relief, not realizing how nervous she’d been to be alone with Hope, and pats the bench next to her where Tobin takes a seat.

“I’m Hope. But you probably heard all about me, didn’t you?”

Tobin shrugs.

“Alex’s power lets her acquire whatever power the people around her happen to have. She gets really jumpy when she’s surprised by one, so she probably just panicked. I’m sure she didn’t mean to start anything, she’s really nice.”

It’s nonchalant the way she says it, but once she gets started talking- or thinking- about Alex, she tends to get carried away. And she knows that’s more than just because Alex is wonderful, it’s something else she’s not sure she’s ready to think about yet. The issue at hand commands her attention better and she stops thinking about Alex, placing all her attention on Hope.

“I thought she had the same power as me,” Hope says, “but I guess that explains it. What, is your superpower the power to top any power ever? Does the pattern just keep going?”

Tobin laughs because she can see that Hope is kidding, and when she does and Hope’s face relaxes a little into what could almost be considered a smile, Kelley grins, too.

“Tobin’s power is actually way cooler than that. She...basically neutralizes everyone else’s powers. Go ahead and try to do your thing.”

Hope’s not even really sure _how_ to ‘try to do her thing’, but no matter what she does, her palms don’t heat or tingle. She looks over at Tobin, who does a comical shrug and laughs again. Tobin’s pretty but not the same way that Kelley is. She’s got something a little exotic about her, with her surfer’s tan complexion and loose ponytail. It’s like she stepped right out of a beach, and despite Hope’s tension and confusion she feels a little bit weirdly at ease.

“I just came up here to do a couple of reps,” she says, after a moment of pause. She stretches a little and stands and the panic comes back to Kelley again, muted a little by how much Hope seems to have calmed down. “If I’m interrupting something I can totally beat it, though.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Kelley says quickly, “it’s getting kind of late, anyway.”

She takes Hope downstairs, where the kitchen is empty except for Sydney, who has her earbuds in and either doesn’t notice them or doesn’t want to show that she does. Kelley digs up some leftovers from the fridge for Hope, and neither of them speaks. It feels weird to watch Hope eat so she busies herself with watching Sydney, who really _hasn’t_ noticed them. She’s on dish duty and she’s cleaning away and listening to music and totally jumps when she notices Kelley out of the corner of her eye.

She’s wary of Hope. Most of them are. She’s also a little curious, though, so she just smiles at Kelley and sticks around, hoping maybe a conversation will start.

None does, because Hope doesn’t want to talk.

“So, what is it? Are you staying, or what?”

Kelley leans over the counter, hoping despite the ridiculousness of the day that Hope will stay. It makes her feel important, having someone to guide, and she has a lot she thinks she could learn from it even if Hope insists on being difficult. 

Hope is caught.

She doesn’t have a job, she quit it. She doesn’t have a family to speak of because they avoid associating with her. She doesn’t have friends, because nobody’s ever stuck around. It would be easy to disappear into this new uncovered little world- easy, sure, but does she want it?

There are parts of it that intrigue her. Abby, specifically, though she wishes that weren’t the case. She’d like to find out where all the money is coming from, and she’d like to figure out all the coincidences, and she really doesn’t mind Kelley all that much, either.

There’s nothing to go back to, and there’s enough to stay for, so she shrugs.

“Why not?”

.,.

Alex goes to sleep in her own bed, but that doesn’t last long.

She has a nightmare, not that it’s surprising. This is the third night in a row, and this time Hope is involved.

In the dream she’s facing off with Hope again, but she’s terrified. She can’t control herself; she can feel the electricity surging through her hands and arms but when she lashes out at Hope it’s Abby that she hurts. And when she starts she can’t stop, and she watches, horrified at her own hands and her own power, as Abby bursts into a ball of electric flame.

She wakes, choking on a scream that she just manages to muffle with her hand, legs tangled in her comforter and covered in a thin sheen of cold sweat. When the dream really registers, she rolls to push her face into her pillow and cries, deep, shaking, silent sobs. The bed dips a little and she jumps before she feels Tobin’s arm slide around her shoulders, and she rolls over so that she can cry into Tobin’s shirt instead of into the pillow.

It’s the closest they’ve ever been, physically. It’s not the first time Alex has woken up crying, and Tobin always does her best to help, turning on a light or just talking to Alex through the darkness until sleep comes again and the exhaustion takes away any hopes of a dream, good or bad. This is different, and it makes the whole thing more real.

“Sorry,” Alex murmurs, and Tobin tightens the arm around Alex’s shoulders. She hates herself a little for wanting this closeness, for wanting to be the one to hold Alex through the nightmares and the tears, but the least she can do is comfort. She’ll have plenty of time to feel guilty about it later.

“Hope shook you up real bad, huh?”

Alex nods, and Tobin loops her free arm around the taller girl’s waist, reveling in the dampness of Alex’s t-shirt and the coolness of the skin beneath it where her fingers brush over Alex’s lower back by accident.

“You’re not gonna hurt anyone, okay?”

“Not while you’re around,” Alex agrees. Having the warmth of Tobin’s body pressed against her front makes the rest of her cold, so she shimmies the covers up to her chin and ducks her face against Tobin’s neck. 

Tobin doesn’t speak again until Alex’s breathing evens out against her skin, and when she /does/ speak she closes her eyes.

“Not while I’m around.”

.,.

Observing training is the only part of the process that Hope likes. 

She feels more comfortable once she knows who's surrounding her, and she spends her time compiling an internal facts sheet. First and most importantly is Christie, whose power- the ability to disintegrate something at a touch- may not rival Alex's, but whose authority and compassion are unquestionable. Abby's her dumb-but-not-mute puppet, and her super strength is annoyingly fitting. Shannon is more second-in-command material, tall and quiet but with real presence, and the blue of her eyes says "cold manipulation" even before she freezes Abby's feet in place. 

There's Amy- one of the two, anyway, the blonde one- who's got X-Ray vision and is surprisingly fast and agile, and Heather, with superspeed, and Lauren, who heals. Nicole- "Barnie", they call her- who summons things, mostly weapons and small animals; Sydney, who can climb walls or hang upside down just from her fingertips; the list goes on and by the end of it there's only one person Hope is threatened by. 

Alex watches Hope watch her, feeling the pressure of her gaze, and Abby steps into her space to warn her: "Ignore her. She's trying to shake you up."

"Well, it's working."

Abby thinks for a moment, then leans in a little more.

"Is she close enough for you to access her?"

"Um...yeah. Yeah."

"Try it."

"Are you sure?"

"She needs to stay scared of you."

Abby doesn't finish the thought, which is that Alex is probably only safe while Hope is intimidated by her, but she gets the feeling that Alex hears it anyway. 

From her vantage point on the third floor, through an open window, Tobin watches as Alex’s hands start to spark and light. She’s never seen anything like it before and she assumes that it’s Hope’s power from the way Hope- who seems to be watching- reacts, tensing so much that Tobin can see it from yards above them. It’s like Hope’s preparing to go into a fight, almost.

It doesn’t happen that way. Alex lets the power take over, feels it in every inch of her body. Abby watches, ready to intervene if she has to, but just that security allows Alex to play with it, lifting a hand to study the way the energy’s dancing from finger to finger. She’s unaware of the message she’s supposed to be sending, focusing more on control and the ability to calm herself down in Hope’s presence, but Abby turns to look at Hope and the message is perfectly clear.

To Tobin it looks like Abby is using Alex as a pawn in her little civil war against Hope, and she bristles at the thought. She can’t possibly know Abby’s motivation, or that Abby’s not thinking of anyone /but/ Alex, and it’s not Tobin’s job to protect Alex, especially not on an emotional level, but she promises herself she’ll bring it up later just in case.

Alex would do the same for her, she’s sure of it.

…

Becky looks up from the rigged radio and turns to Christie, who hasn’t heard any of the cop chatter- she’s too absorbed in making tea and is half-awake, preferring the six to twelve shift but taking the midnight to six because she knows nobody else will volunteer on a weekend.

“We have a possible hostage situation,” she says, and from the couch Amy jerks herself awake, blinking in the graying early-morning light that’s just now peeking through the common room blinds.

Christie turns, waiting for more information, and Becky gives what she has: “The Target between 14th and Ibson. All they’re saying right now is that there’s a gun involved and the store’s locked.”

“Are they heading over?” 

They try not to infringe too much on police business- it makes for sticky getaways when they don’t want to be recognized or caught but don’t have much in the way of costumes- so this is the first question asked every time. Amy’s at Becky’s shoulder in seconds, leaning over the radio.

“Yeah, but they’re going to try to get the guy to cooperate, probably, instead of busting down the door- if he has a gun they’re going to be afraid he’ll shoot someone if they manhandle their way in.”

“I don’t think this calls for more than two of us,” Christie answers after a moment. Amy was the one to stay back the last time something happened on their shift so she knows she’ll be going, but there’s an idea that pops up in the back of her mind that she can’t keep from trying out.

“Can I take Hope?”

Christie shrugs. 

“If you feel like waking her up, sure. Now’s as good a time as any to break her in.”

...

Hope is a morning person.

That does not mean she is a 5:15 am person.

She doesn’t complain when Amy wakes her up (she always forgets that there are two of them and in her head she refers to this one as Brown Amy and the other as Blonde Amy) because she knows that’s not going to get her anywhere, but she feels stupid getting dressed in regular civilian clothes to go do something that’s supposedly heroic.

She completely forgets that Amy is a shapeshifter until they’re out on the sidewalk. All the warning she gets is “I’m going ahead for a second, just head for Ibson and I’ll loop back,” before the other woman is gone and there’s a brown dog- a Boxer or something- bolting down the street, leaving her in the cold.

For a second she thinks about turning around and going back inside, but Amy’s never done anything to her and she knows it would be monumentally shitty of her to ditch someone like that- not that she’d usually care- so she starts to walk. Three minutes in the dog is back.

Amy doesn’t shift back right away because it’s easier to watch Hope from the dog’s body without being too obvious. She knows that Hope knows it’s her, because the look she gets lasts too long to be the kind of look you might spare a passing stray, so for a minute or two she keeps pace. Hope still smells like the outside- like tall office buildings and long days spent doing something mundane- and Amy wonders if she’s ever going to really gel with everyone else. She walks with more purpose than she needs to, with her head down and her hands deep in her pockets.

They’re both just people by the time they reach the intersection, and Amy stops Hope with a hand on her forearm before they can cross the street.

“We’re not supposed to know anything’s going on, remember. We’ve beaten the cops here- right now we’re just two people going for a walk before breakfast. I’m gonna go around behind the building and look for a way in that’s not obvious or loud, think you can loiter without looking like you’re loitering?”

“Of course.”

But she doesn’t.

She’s not sure what exactly Amy’s looking for, but if there’s a guy with a gun in that store- and other people in it- she’s not going to wait for a subtle way in. For all they know there’s no time for that, and she figures if they’re going to get in before the cops get there she needs to act now.

She pulls her sweatshirt hood up and takes the locked automatic doors out, crackling, with a flick of her wrist.

Amy’s perched on one of the heating vents looking for a way in when she hears the crash and immediately she thinks that a shot’s been fired. It takes her two seconds to fly over the top of the store and realize that Hope is inside. It takes her another second flat to figure out that the crash had been Hope’s doing.

...

It’s not one douchebag with a gun.

It’s four.

The first of them meets her at the door with his gun raised and her fingers spark when she sees the two employees behind him, bound and gagged behind a register. 

“I’ll fucking shoot! Don’t come any closer, I swear to God-”

She’s about to raise a hand when something huge barrels past her and right into him, knocking him onto his back, sending the gun clattering across tile, and pinning him there. It’s a tiger, fully ten feet long, with a disapproving glare that is uncannily Amy’s.

“I couldn’t wait.”

There are cop sirens outside before either of them can make another move, and Amy goes directly from tiger to dog without a stop in between, grabbing Hope by the sleeve of her sweatshirt and dragging her towards the back of the store. Hope follows her out into the alley, and just when the pressure on her arm is released Amy’s standing in front of her again, looking frantic. 

“I don’t have time right now to tell you how stupid that was, but it was stupid. You’re about to do what I tell you to do or get arrested- I don’t care which one you choose.”

Hope doesn’t answer. Amy takes that as her cue to continue.

“You’re chasing your dog who got out the front door when you went to get the mail. You know nothing about the Target. You know nothing about the blown-in windows. And you’re in a different sweatshirt.”

She holds out her hand, waiting for Hope to switch with her, but it takes a second for that part to sink in, and it’s not until she snaps once that Hope finally shrugs out of her hoodie and switches jackets with Amy. Neither of them says another word. Amy goes back to being the dog and bounds out of the alley, barking.

...

Amy stays a dog all the way back to the house, like she’s trying to maintain their cover. Part of it is that and part of it is that she doesn’t want to feel like she needs to talk to Hope, because she’s bad at discipline and wouldn’t know what to say. Becky’s the one that opens the door, and Hope doesn’t even say a word before she shoulders past her.

It’s six.

Everybody is awake, give or take one or two of them, but Abby is the first one to speak.

“Are you _fucking_ kidding me?”

Hope stiffens, and Christie touches Abby’s elbow to rein her in. The chatter had turned violent around the time the situation had, so they have a pretty good idea of what happened before Amy starts the incident report. 

“Go get breakfast,” Christie says when Hope approaches her as meekly as Hope can approach anyone, “I’ll see you at the reception desk at seven.”

…

Abby’s secretly praying that Christie will send Hope off, but even as she does she knows that won’t be the case. Hope knows too much to be let go, now; like a life-altering parasite they have to learn to cohabit, regardless of how difficult she is. Shannon joins her at the reception desk, leaning against the counter and shuffling through incident reports from the last week- paperwork is her job, though Becky and A-Rod occasionally help out- and Abby leans over, pressing into Shannon’s shoulder, half to read the report and half just to be close.

“That looks like it was a shitshow,” she says under her breath, and Shannon shakes her head in agreement.

“It wasn’t good. And it’s not like Amy exaggerates much, either.”

“Except about how excited she is.”

They laugh, but it’s strained. Hope and Kelley come in from outside, settling near the end of the counter, and Hope looks so completely unbothered by all of it that Abby wants to accuse her of not taking this seriously enough. Shannon sees Abby staring and nudges her, hoping to diffuse anything at least until Christie shows up, and then, as if summoned by the rising tensions, their captain appears from the elevators.

“Please sit,” she says, and they do. It’s kind of a makeshift conference table, with Abby and Shannon and Christie on one side and Kelley and Hope on the other. The thing about the way it’s set up is that _Kelley_ feels guilty for _Hope’s_ screwup, which she’s still not sure she even entirely understands, given that she’s half-awake. But this is her job, and it’s something Pearcie trusted her to do, so she’s not going to screw it up if she can help it.

The question is, really, whether or not she can help it.

“I’m not here to preach to you,” Christie says, “but there are a few things you need to understand.”

Hope shifts a little in her seat and Shannon notices the little things that betray her; the way her upper body is twisted to face the door a little, and her knee is bouncing like she’s ready to run at any second. Abby might think Hope doesn’t give a shit, but Shannon can see that’s just what Hope _wants_ them to think, and that makes her feel a little more at ease. As long as some part of Hope cares about their opinion of her, they still have leverage.

“What you did today was stupid in terms of common sense, but that’s not what the issue is. We all make bad decisions under pressure, sometimes- it happens. Adrenaline is a funny thing.”

“I wasn’t acting under the influence of adrenaline,” Hope bluffs.

“Then you were acting under the influence of genuine stupidity and you should take the out she’s giving you.”

Abby’s reply is biting and uncalled for, and Shannon nudges her again, this time under the table. Kelley swallows hard, sparing a meaningful look at Hope, who doesn’t seem as if she regrets what she said. It’s a little bit frightening how defensive Abby is around Hope, even without Alex in the room to excuse her; as if something about Hope’s basic makeup turns her wild. Kelley’s never _seen_ Abby even the slightest bit out of control, and now she knows why.

Christie lets the tension hang for a moment before she continues, mostly ignoring Abby, who she had come just to have someone that heard the entire conversation. It’s an insurance thing, just like Shannon’s presence. 

“Regardless of what made you do it, it’s not something you can ever do again. A lot of the time it’s going to seem easier to jump into things headfirst and it’s not easy to be patient, especially- _especially_ \- where the police are involved, but you have to leave time for safety.”

“Selflessness doesn’t require safety,” Hope says, as if she’s quoting a comic book, and Kelley kicks her ankle under the counter to no avail. Abby glares, held back by Shannon’s arm pressed into hers.

“That may very well be true, but you weren’t the only person there. Your recklessness didn’t just put you in danger- that’s your prerogative- but it put Amy in danger, and that’s what I’m asking you never to do again. Put yourself in harm’s way all you want. Hopefully your instincts will keep you from doing that to a point where we’ll lose you. But never endanger one of your teammates again.”

Hope clears her throat, finally letting it get to her- remembering how Amy got them out of it, and how Amy hadn’t razzed her for it- and addresses Christie directly, dropping her crossed arms.

“I won’t. You’re right. I wasn’t thinking of her, I was only thinking of the hostages.”

“And yourself,” Abby prompts, as if she’s trying to start another fight. Christie glances sharply at her, but Hope can handle it. She makes steady, even eye contact with Abby, not submitting, not backing down.

“And myself.”

Abby had expected an argument but it’s clear to her that she has a lot more to learn about how Hope operates. Somehow the agreement makes her bristle even more, but she keeps quiet, solely because Christie’s eyes are still on her.

“I’ll do better next time,” Hope offers, and even Kelley is surprised by how sincere she seems.

…

“I don’t understand why you guys even do this.”

The Jeopardy theme sounds, and Kelley, sprawled out on Alex’s bed and half lying on Alex’s legs, wads up the chocolate wrapper in her hand and lobs it at Tobin’s head. It catches in Tobin’s hair and she grabs at it, unfolding it to read the little fortune on the inside.

“Friendship is the gold thread that ties hearts together,” Tobin announces, in her best breathy voice, and the three of them crack up.

“Good thing, too,” Kelley replies rapidfire, “or we’d disown you for disapproving of our choices in expenditures of free time.”

Kelley is purposely expanding her vocabulary to make her point, but it just makes Tobin laugh again. Alex is stuck on the disapproval, as usual: “What’s your problem with Jeopardy, anyway?”

Tobin shrugs, smoothing out the Dove wrapper in her palm so that it lies flat and the saying is easier to read.

“I don’t have a problem with the show. It’s just that you guys always end up arguing about it, and Kelley always wins, and then she leaves and you’re no fun the rest of the night.”

Alex frowns.

“Kelley doesn’t _always_ win.”

“Yeah, I do. And, Tobin- is Alex _usually_ fun the rest of the night?”

“I-”

Kelley woofs, leaping from Alex’s bed to Tobin’s and crawling up the length of Tobin’s body to pretend-seduce her. Tobin pushes Kelley away with a palm to the forehead, laughing all over again.

“Gross, stop.”

Predictably, it’s a close game. Tobin keeps score for them dutifully like a good friend, and Alex is 200 points behind until Final Jeopardy.

“The category is Musicals.”

The two girls groan at different octaves. Tobin looks on, trying to hide her grin; Final Jeopardy is always more fun when neither of them has an advantage. For her, at least. She gets to be around for a lot of these kind of competitions, and not just between Alex and Kelley, because she’s a built-in cheating deterrent.

“Cameron Mackintosh produced both of these- the two longest-running musicals in Broadway history.”

“This is so unfair,” Alex mutters, scribbling down her answer, “Tobin, check this out and tell me what I should bet.”

“That’s cheating.”

Kelley doesn’t really care, though, because Alex always ends up betting it all no matter what Tobin tells her to do. Plus, she’s pretty sure she has the right answer, and she’s also pretty sure that Alex won’t.

“I don’t know anything about musicals,” Tobin says. “Just bet...enough to beat Kelley.”

Alex bets everything. Kelley bets two thousand, figuring she won’t need to bet anything to win.

“The answers are: Cats, and Les Miserables.”

Alex cackles, clapping her hands together, and Kelley wails from her spot on the floor.

“That’s not true! That’s not true! Mama Mia’s the longest-running, too!”

“Clearly not,” Tobin observes helpfully, but she can’t deny she’s excited to see Kelley lose for once, if only because Alex won’t be sulky for the rest of the night.

“Then it’s false advertising and whoever’s running Mama Mia should be sued, because I swear to God they advertise it as being the longest-running.”

“I knew you’d make that mistake,” Alex squeals, lying on her stomach so she can poke Kelley in the shoulder, “I knew it! You think you’re so smart. They advertise it as _one_ of the longest-running, not _the_ longest-running. I jog by the signs like every day.”

“Whatever. Don’t you have a shift starting soon, or something?”

Alex shakes her head, and the room gets a little bit dangerously quiet. Tobin gets up and takes their scratchpads from them, tearing out the used sheets and throwing them in the trash. She keeps the Dove wrapper, tucking it between the mirror and the mirror’s frame where it rests above the dresser.

“Christie gave me the night off. She wanted to put Hope and Carli and Abby together to try and make them gel.”

Every single one of them can think of a different reason why that’s a bad idea.

“Hopefully the city is quiet tonight,” Kelley murmurs, but she’s not thinking of the city, she’s thinking of Hope and the thin line she’s treading.

…

Alex has a nightmare and Tobin sits up with her while she tries to get back to sleep.

It doesn’t work, but there in the lamplight while Tobin sits sentinel, their dynamic starts to change. She can feel it, like something shifting inside her. She tells herself she’s watching Alex this closely to know when she’s fallen asleep, but that’s not quite it, and in her heart of hearts she can’t lie to herself.

Alex is frowning a little, like she’s concentrating, the corners of her mouth turned down and her brow furrowed. She remembers the last nightmare, or at least she remembers the aftermath: Alex’s tears drying against her neck and collar, the band of skin where Alex’s t-shirt rode up over her lower back, the casual way Alex had shifted until they were pressed together all the way down to their knees.

Tobin had wanted to cocoon Alex in warmth and safety and reassurance and never let her go. She feels the same urge now, even though they’re not touching. Alex sleeps on her side, with one hand tucked up under her chin, but the other hand is outspread like it’s waiting for a partner.

Tobin rolls over onto her stomach, reaches across the gap between their beds, and touches her fingertips together.

Alex smiles in her sleep.

...

There’s a mugging that night and it’s the first time Hope is present when someone dies.

Up until now it’s mostly been fun and games. Even the danger is a game to her, in a way, because she hasn’t been harmed yet and the worst she’s seen on a victim is a broken bone or a few scratches. This mugging calls for her and Abby, and that leaves Carli back at HQ- it’s three am and by the time they get there the girl is already dead and limp in her killer’s arms.

Abby is tempted to snap his neck. 

This is something she’s struggled with. It’s not an urge to kill that drives her, but in the heat of the moment she’s had to learn not to let adrenaline and a thirst for justice control her. It’s not her job to decide this scum’s fate. There’s a justice system for a reason. It’s the girl that gets to her, the girl who can’t be older than Alex or Kelley or Tobin, dead from a gunshot wound straight through the head. Hope is silent.

Abby breaks the kid’s arm without meaning to but doesn’t feel bad about it. She holds him with his face pressed into the side of the dumpster and listens to him cry about it until the police get there. Hope holds the girl as if she’s waiting for an ambulance and doesn’t say a word. She reminds Abby of the Pietà.

Hope knows the girl in her arms is dead but she can’t stop thinking about how alive she must have just been. She kind of looks familiar and it takes Hope until the ambulance comes and the police sirens are wailing to get it. When they lift the dead girl onto the stretcher, the angle of the light that hits her cheek and jaw makes her look like Kelley.

Hope doesn’t want to cry in front of Abby, so she gets mad instead. She kneels where she was the whole time until Abby grabs her by the arm and pulls her to her feet.

“She’s dead,” Hope says.

“It happens,” replies Abby.

Hope stumbles away from her, the anger and the shock overwhelming her in the face of Abby’s nonchalance. It’s as if none of it has registered to Abby at all and instead all of it is going to _her_ head.

“You don’t even _care_ ,” she accuses, and she knows she’s a loose cannon but she doesn’t even like Abby so she doesn’t try to rein it in. She keeps thinking of the girl on the stretcher and of Kelley safe in her bed at HQ and she can’t figure out why the resemblance even bothers her so much but it does. 

“You don’t even care. This doesn’t mean _anything_ to you. Any of you.”

Abby snarls, grabbing her by the shoulder and pushing her hard into the brick wall behind her. Hope yelps, grabbing at Abby’s hand as her own heat up.

“We put _so much_ of ourselves in this,” Abby hisses. Hope’s sparking now, burning at the hand that’s holding her against the wall, but Abby doesn’t feel it for the red she’s seeing.

“We sacrificed our families, our friends- this means _everything_ to us.”

Hope doesn’t say anything, just grips at Abby’s hand until Abby pulls it away with a muttered “fuck”. It’s red. It’s burned for sure, probably third degree, but Abby just turns away and curses under her breath as she starts back towards home. She’s pissed that Hope would think that death meant nothing to her, but she’s more pissed at Hope’s generalization of the rest of the group.

Hope doesn’t apologize. Abby doesn’t expect her to.

.....

“What happened?”

Hope is surprised that Kelley’s up when she gets back, but she doesn’t question it. Tobin and Alex are there, too, in the kitchen hardly a foot apart. That’s something that Kelley has been trying not to notice, so she focuses on Hope, who is pale and wide-eyed.

“Mugging victim died,” Abby mutters, going right to the sink to put cool water on her hand. Alex intercepts her and holds it in her own, looking it over with a critical eye.

“Go get Lauren,” she says, and Tobin does as she’s told without a word or a glance at Hope.

“No,” Abby replies, loudly enough that it stops Tobin in her tracks, “I’m fine. It’s fine.”

“It’s _not_ fine,” Alex insists, and Hope watches them, trying not to think about the fact that they’re arguing over an injury _she_ gave someone on her own side. Well, technically on her own side.

Tobin goes. Abby huffs about it, and Alex turns her hand over to look at her palm where the lines have been all but burned off. Even knowing Lauren will fix it doesn’t make her feel any better about it- she knows that it was Hope’s doing, she can tell just from the way the other woman watches them.

She spares barely two seconds of a look Hope’s way, but it’s enough.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, she practically did it to herself. She was trying to break my shoulder.”

Abby doesn’t even look up. Alex drops Abby’s hand to face Hope completely, shoulders back- it’s three in the morning and she’s already had a nightmare tonight and she’s just had _enough_ \- and Hope raises an eyebrow, egging her on.

“I don’t care what she was doing.”

“Oh? Yeah? What’re you gonna do about it? Were you there? Could you have stopped that girl from dying?”

“You couldn’t,” Alex points out, and Hope crosses her arms, taking a step closer despite Abby’s glare over Alex’s shoulder.

“Think you could do a better fucking job than me?”

Lauren clears her throat.

The tension in the room doesn’t dissolve, it just spreads out, like butter over bread. Alex glares at Hope until Tobin tugs at her t-shirt and convinces her, just by being there, that they should go back to bed. She can’t be in the room while Lauren’s healing, anyway, and Alex knows that upsets her. 

She has to fight the urge to say something on the way out. Tobin’s hand brushing against hers keeps it from happening. Kelley follows them with a lingering look at Hope, who is still visibly shaken and mad, and Lauren heals Abby’s hand without any trouble at all.

“Sorry you had to get up for this,” Abby says, and Hope hates that it sounds like she means it.

“I’m not,” Lauren says easily, patting Abby’s palm. “I’ll go right back to sleep, Mombach. I promise.”

Abby spares a weak smile before Lauren’s gone, and then, without a work or a glance at Hope, she brushes past and into the hallway.

Hope catches up with Abby around the corner and grabs her by the elbow for half a second- not long enough for her fingers to start to tingle, just long enough to get her attention- gratified by Abby turning on her heel and finally making eye contact, jaw clenched.

“If you have such a problem with me, why don’t you just haul back and punch me in the face? We both know that would be easier than you pretending you don’t wish I’d never appeared in the first place.”

“I’m not getting into this with you.”

“You don’t get to choose anymore.”

“Don’t think for a second that you can _threaten_ me,” Abby snarls, stepping into Hope’s space. 

“You came here with an attitude and you haven’t stopped complaining since you did. You threw off the whole group and you insist on antagonizing one of the strongest assets we have, and if it weren’t for Christie I’d have kicked you out in a heartbeat.”

“I don’t believe that,” Hope replies, matching Abby’s stance, feet shoulder-width apart and head high, “I think you’re too much of a coward to tell me the truth.”

Before she can regret that her back is against the wall and there’s a hand around her throat and she knows with absolute certainty that she could be dead at any moment but the only thing she really notices is the press of Abby’s thumb against her jugular and the flash of something thrilling in Abby’s eyes.

Abby knows that Hope is right, that's why she's so mad. The truth is that she needs Hope. They all do. 

But she won't be the one to say it. 

She leans in so that they’re breathing the same air- or would be, if Hope were still breathing- and speaks with such strength that Hope feels it in her bones: “You don’t know me. Don’t pretend you do.”

Hope can’t think of anything to do but grab the front of Abby’s shirt and pull her forward so that their lips crash together. For a millisecond Abby’s hand tightens and Hope really _can’t_ breathe, but then that hand is pushing at her shoulder and Abby’s pulling away and Hope immediately misses the contact of Abby’s lips and hates herself for it.

Abby leaves her in the hallway. Hope takes a minute to compose herself and follows, vowing not to think about it too hard.

...

Kelley’s getting ready for the six to twelve when Hope wanders back to their room. Abby (understandably) avoided her for the last few hours of their shift, after the injury and the sudden kiss. Both her and Carli dozed on and off in the living room as if nothing had happened at all, and Hope took her turn listening to idle cop chatter and trying not to hate herself any more than usual. Seeing Kelley again brings back the girl on the stretcher so Hope looks away, pulling her shirt over her head and collapsing onto her bed facefirst.

Kelley’s weight dips the mattress where she sits, not far from Hope’s side.

“Why’d you do it? Hurt Abby’s hand, I mean.”

Hope pretends to be asleep. Predictably, it doesn’t work. Kelley- who can remember Pearcie’s method, not that _this_ was ever a problem with _her_ \- tries again. 

“You can tell me the truth. I know she can be a little rough around the edges.”

She places a hand between Hope’s shoulder blades; the older woman tenses and then rolls away from it, onto her side.

“I’m exhausted, Kel.”

It’s a victory, hearing Hope use her nickname, and despite the situation Kelley can’t help but smile. For her part, Hope wants to groan in embarrassment and is glad Kelley can’t see her redden with it. 

“Okay, then make it quick.”

“She pushed me against a wall and I reacted. That’s all. She had it coming.”

Kelley makes a non-commital noise in the back of her throat that suggests she doesn’t quite believe it, and for some unfathomable reason it really _bothers_ Hope that she isn’t getting Kelley on her side.

“Any idea maybe _why_ she did that?”

Hope sits up, fixing Kelley with a suspicious look.

“What did she say to you?”

“Nothing.”

“Well, what did she say to Alex?”

Kelley shrugs.

“I wouldn’t know. I didn’t ask her.”

The thing that bothers her, though, is that if Abby did say something to Alex- which she very well might have, on her way to her own room- Kelley is sure that Tobin would know all about it. But that’s not Hope’s problem.

“So, what, you just assume that I started it?”

Kelley sighs.

“No. But Abby’s not the type to do something like that unless you provoke her. And I’m not saying it’s not easy to provoke her, if you know the right buttons to press, I’m just saying she doesn’t go Hulk and randomly assault people.”

Hope raises an eyebrow, waiting for the end of the statement, and Kelley gives in, albeit guiltily.

“Plus... you’re a little abrasive sometimes.”

“Your shift is starting,” Hope says, dropping back to the mattress, “looks like you’ll have to parent me later.”

…

The third nightmare in as many nights is the worst of them.

Alex dreams of the man with no blood on his hands, and his victim, and she dreams that she’s helping him kill. She can’t see his face until the clouds pass the moon, and when they do she sees that he’s not a man at all.

It’s her. She’s looking at herself. And there’s blood on her hands, and the victim lying dead at her feet is Tobin.

When she wakes up and touches a hand to her cheek it comes back wet, and for a moment she thinks it’s blood like it was in the dream and gasps so hard her throat aches. She’s been crying. She’s crying still, but she’s crying because for the first time her victim wasn’t the shadow on the ground, or Abby. She’s crying for Tobin, for the Tobin she killed in the dream, and the real one crawling into her bed and anchoring her by lying half on top of her.

The crying stops once Tobin starts wiping her tears away, because something else is more important. Where Tobin touches her, her skin tingles. The light from the street is just enough that she can see Tobin’s face, the concern creasing her brow, her lips parted.

Alex wants to kiss her, and the urge catches her so entirely by surprise that she can’t breathe. Tobin wipes at her tears until they’re gone, and then she shifts so that she’s lying at Alex’s side and throws an arm around Alex’s waist to keep her close.

They’ve passed some kind of landmark, some kind of line in the sand in regards to intimacy, and Tobin can feel it. Alex is still shaking a little, like she’s trying not to start crying again, and when she rolls into Tobin’s arms it makes her feel powerful. Soothing Alex makes her feel like she might be worth something. Alex heaves a huge sigh, letting the strength of Tobin’s arms replace the limpness of the Tobin in her dream. 

In real life, Tobin pulls Alex closer and presses a bold kiss to the crown of her head.

...

Alex can’t sleep.

Well, it’s more than that- it’s that she doesn’t even want to try to sleep, because the nightmares come every night without fail and she’s afraid if she lives through it again she’s going to lose her mind completely. That and she’s tired of waking Tobin up in the middle of the night with screaming and crying and it feels too good to bury herself in Tobin’s arms and try to sleep again. She’s getting attached, and if there’s one thing she’s learned so far it’s that getting attached is always a bad idea.

She knows the second Tobin appears in the kitchen that it’s too late. Losing Tobin would completely dismantle her. It’s only around Tobin that she can relax, only in Tobin’s arms that the possibility of sleep feels anywhere close.

“Are you nocturnal now?”

Alex laughs a little, but it’s forced. She only realizes once Tobin glances down at her hands that she’s been picking the nail polish off of her thumbnails, and then she sighs, sitting on her hands. Tobin hops up onto the counter so that the outside of her knee brushes Alex’s upper arm, but she doesn’t say anything else.

“I didn’t want to wake you up anymore,” Alex admits quietly, and Tobin leans back to pluck a biscotti out of the container, snapping it in half and handing Alex the larger one. 

“Well, that backfired. I can’t sleep without you.”

She says it so matter-of-fact that it catches Alex by surprise, and when she really hears it she stops chewing and lifts her eyes to Tobin’s million-watt smile, a superpower all on its own.

“Look, I don’t care if you have nightmares. I don’t mind being woken up a couple of times in the middle of the night. I didn’t ask you to leave because I like having you there.” There, of course, being ‘in bed with me’, which Alex is suddenly very glad Tobin didn’t say. 

She wants to kiss Tobin’s smile and she’s not sure what to do about it, not sure where they stand or how to ask. Just tonight she had felt the feather-light touch of Tobin’s lips on the crown of her head as she cried, but now it’s like she could have made it up.

“I’m scared,” she blurts, looking away.

“You don’t have to be,” is Tobin’s gentle reply. “Not around me.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> friction slows things down, but it heats things up, too.

"Try it again."

Hope grits her teeth. The door doesn't give when she kicks it, and it jars her knee when she tries. The charred-out building is falling apart inside and outside and everywhere except the stupid door and Abby could probably lean into it and knock it down. 

"Why are you making _me_ do this?"

"Because if you're manning a fire and I'm not on your shift you won't have a She-Hulk to do it for you. Try it again."

Hope takes a few steps back and comes at the door with her shoulder. It splinters a little, but she can't come at it again; her shoulder hurts bad enough that she's fighting back tears. 

"People are dying in there," Abby says. 

The building is empty and cold.

"Fuck you, I'm not here to injure myself in training just because you're too much of a coward to fight me yourself."

Abby crosses her arms and ignores her urge to throttle Hope on the spot. 

"Probably children," she adds casually.

Hope’s hands start to tingle.

“You want that on your conscience?”

She lifts one hand, letting the tingle spread into her arm, and her fingers and palms start to glow. She can feel Abby watching her, can feel the judgement and knows that Abby’s expecting her to give up. As she watches the energy dance along her fingers an idea comes to her, and in a moment of outrageousness she extends her hand as if to stop something.

The energy shoots out of her and blasts the door open; the recoil surprises her and she stumbles back a few feet from the smoking threshold. 

“Whoa, holy _shit_.”

Hope turns, surprised at how close Abby is. When she tilts her head up to look Abby in the eye they’re only a few inches away. Hope can’t decide if she wants to punch Abby in the face or kiss her. She smirks instead, emboldened by the shock on Abby’s face.

“I don’t think I need She-Hulk."

…

After that night, the nightmares wane until they’re nothing, just a reminder of the things Alex doesn’t have to worry about anymore. With the nightmares gone, though, a new issue brings itself to light- she and Tobin are still sharing a bed- and she does her best to avoid it. 

Tobin doesn’t really want to bring it up, either, just because she likes the arrangement and lives by the motto “if it’s not broken, don’t fix it”. That and she knows Alex will just get self conscious about it and switch beds, which would really be a shame, because waking up with Alex draped over her is the only way Tobin can manage waking up early enough for her shift. She likes the touching. She likes Alex, but she’s too aware of how badly she’d ruin their relationship if she let that slip.

Alex finds that the urge to kiss Tobin gets worse every day. It’s manageable most of the time, but as soon as Tobin breaks out into a full smile it gets to the point that Alex has to physically remove herself from situations in order to maintain her sanity. And of course Kelley is the first to notice this, and of course it makes everything awkward until Kelley takes it upon herself to fix the tension in the situation by adding a little more.

They’re just eating breakfast- Alex has, for the first time probably ever, successfully made some scrambled eggs- and Tobin makes a joke about salt instead of sugar in the shaker, and Alex smacks her on the shoulder and they sit and grin at each other for a full ten seconds before Kelley grabs her plate and heads for the porch door, shaking her head. 

“If you idiots are gonna kiss, please just _get it over with_ ,” she calls over her shoulder, then isolates her on the far corner of the porch with her comics page of the newspaper and runny eggs.

“I wasn’t gonna kiss you,” Tobin says after a second, poking at her eggs without looking up. Alex manages an awkward little laugh and scoots her chair in closer to the table, inadvertently causing their knees to touch and wanting to bang her head against a wall a few times. 

“I know.”

For a second they continue in silence, until Tobin is sure she’s about to do something stupid and ends up proving herself right when she continues on the same subject, this time opening herself up to certain rejection and letting the butter on her toast melt on just the middle because she’s too distracted to spread it- “I mean, unless you wanted me to.”

Alex almost chokes on her orange juice, but she manages to get it down, swallowing hard and trying to decide if Tobin’s joking or not. In all honesty, she can’t tell until Tobin looks down at her plate again, and then Alex realizes none of it has been a joke- not the way Tobin held her when she’d cry herself back to sleep, not the huge smiles she could have sworn were meant just for her, not the subtle hints. 

With a clatter, her fork hits the plate, and just like that she reaches out and drags Tobin in for the stupidest and most spontaneous kiss of her life. 

When it's over Alex shovels eggs into her mouth, embarrassed, and Tobin gapes at her. 

She's caught between being shocked that Alex kissed her and shocked that it took so long for them to get there. Alex, for her part, is mostly just embarrassed that she kissed her best friend in the first place, and trying to ignore the fact that she'd like to do it again. 

"Alex."

It's a question, really, and Alex looks up, cheeks burning, mid-chew. 

"Mn?"

Tobin doesn't know what to say- she knows what she's like to convey but not how to put it- so she stumbles a little, and now _she's_ blushing. 

"I- I liked it."

She kind of wants to smack herself, but Alex swallows and smiles shyly, the way she had the first time Tobin ever got a smile out of her. 

"Yeah. I mean, good."

Tobin laughs, relief showing in every line of her body, and Alex taps her fork against the table, still nervous but starting to be able to come to terms with it. 

"Good?"

"I did too."

...

They go on like that just fine for a while, just eating in comfortable silence, with their knees pressed together under the table, trying to fight back identical grins. Kelley comes back, and she can tell something has changed right away but doesn't say a word. 

She's jealous. She's not jealous because she'd like to be romantically involved with either of them, she's jealous that they're so close, because it's hard to have two best friends who share something that she can't. It drives a stake between them, separates her, isolates her, and it makes her want to go sit with someone else. Especially since they don't seem like they're going to tell her anything. 

Later Tobin trains and Alex works with Becky’s power, but they're thinking about it- thinking about the kiss and what to do about it. The next time they see each other Alex is in the bathroom just changed from her shower, and Tobin pauses in the doorway, popping up onto her toes and then rocking back onto her heels. 

"How did it go?"

Alex jumps, turning and grinning and leaning back against the sink. She's trying to be casual about it but her stomach flips in anticipation of the change they made that morning and what it means now. 

"Good. Okay. I'm getting there."

"That's great."

"Yeah."

They stand there awkwardly for a moment, neither of them breathing much, and then Tobin loses her patience and lurches into the bathroom, taking Alex's face in her hands and kissing her smile. 

Alex kisses back immediately, but she's grinning still, her hands peeling off the sink and resting tentatively at Tobin's hips. Tobin leans forward until they're pressed front to front against the sink, and then Alex drops the smile and kisses back properly. 

"I didn't know how bad I wanted to do that," Tobin says when they finally pull back.

"I thought about it all day," Alex admits. 

"I did too. I just meant, before this morning."

"It's not weird, if you think about it. I mean, it is, but it isn't, because we're best friends so it's kind of natural right?"

Tobin laughs, dropping her hands from Alex's face and letting up the pressure so that they're no longer touching at all. 

"Don't let Kelley hear you say that."

…

Kelley doesn’t need to hear them say it.

Hope tells her about the new part of her power, and Kelley is surprised and excited that she gets to learn about it before anyone else- other than Abby, of course- so she spends the afternoon trailing behind Hope, the both of them in spectacularly good moods. Hope feels good about herself for the first time in a long time, especially after surprising and impressing Abby, who can admit, grudgingly, that she respects the things that Hope is able to do.

Kelley likes Hope a lot better like this, but a smiling and laughing Hope is twice as attractive as the one who makes Kelley’s life difficult, and that’s an entirely different problem to deal with. It doesn’t have to be a thing, Kelley knows that. She’s an adult, she’s mature enough to deal with her attraction without making things weird, and that’s what she intends to do. Even if she keeps remembering Tobin and Alex attached at the hip.

When training resumes after lunch, Alex shows up freshly showered and smiling, goofing off with Abby, and Kelley can’t help but wonder why she’s in such a good mood. She knows she’s being callow about it, but she can’t help herself; when Alex looks up to where Tobin must be watching from a third floor window Kelley turns back to Hope with intention.

“The only thing I have to figure out is the recoil,” Hope is saying, flexing her (honestly obscene) forearms. Kelley furrows her brow; they’re waiting for Christie and she’s not sure how long they have but she has a sudden idea.

“Have you ever shot a gun?”

“No,” Hope answers, giving her a curious look, “have you?”

She’s surprised to hear that the answer is yes. Kelley doesn’t seem like the weapons type, but she knows a _lot_ about guns, apparently, or at least how to shoot one. She sidles around behind Hope’s back and lifts her arms so that her hands are extended in front of her, with Kelley’s fingers wrapped around her wrists and Kelley’s head peeking up over her shoulder.

“You gotta push and pull at the same time, if that makes sense. Grab the wrist of the hand you’re gonna ‘shoot’ with, with your other hand. And then when you shoot, pull back with your free hand, and push forward with the one you’re ‘shooting’ with. That’ll cancel out a lot of the recoil. Not all of it, though, so make sure you’re standing with your feet hip-width apart.”

Hope adjusts; Kelley drops her hands. 

“That’s too wide. Do you even know where your hips are?”

She places her hands on Hope’s hips, and Hope is shocked by how much she likes it. Shocked and concerned. Kelley’s off-limits for a number of reasons, not the least of which is Hope’s own decision that her guide is ‘too young’ for her. She’s not even sure how old Kelley _is_. She could be anywhere from nineteen up.

She clears her throat and adjusts her feet.

Kelley lifts her hands.

Christie appears, and when she announces the plan- to pit Hope and Alex against each other- Abby and Kelley practically trip over themselves trying to think up reasons why that’s not a good idea. Christie waves them off, and Hope glances at Alex, who’s looking up at the window again, then down at her feet.

“They’ve already faced off. It’s safe, it’s a controlled environment. I want to take what happened earlier and make it constructive. I want to see if you two can combine the power and do something with it- a force field, maybe, or a joint sort of cannon shot, or anything at all. Think you can handle that?”

Hope, never one to back down from a challenge, cracks her knuckles and nods. Kelley swallows. Abby has to nudge Alex’s side to get a reaction, but Alex lifts her head and gives the affirmative, and then- with permission- all hell breaks loose.

Alex isn’t used to the recoil, so when she fires a testing shot she takes out the fence about two feet from Hope’s side and stumbles back so violently that she almost falls. Hope flares, from her fingers to her toes, and shouts across the yard.

“Are you trying to _kill me_ , Morgan?”

Alex shakes her head, but Abby sees her frustration start to rise and reaches out to touch Alex’s back, hoping she can slow the simmer down. Kelley clears her throat, but Christie just watches them, arms crossed.

“If we fire at the same time it’ll work,” Alex says, and Hope huffs a little, censoring herself for Kelley’s sake. She’d like to ask how Alex thinks she knows anything about /her/ power, but instead she straightens and assumes the posture Kelley just taught her, following the ghost of Kelley’s hands on her hips. It’s not weird at all.

Alex copies her, and Abby says something under her breath that Hope doesn’t catch.

“Be big,” Abby says. It means not to let Hope intimidate Alex into submission.

It works.

They count to three and fire at once and the blast they create knocks all of them- Hope, Alex, Abby, Kelley, and Christie- to the ground.

Alex’s shirt is singed, just at her ribs, and Hope knows she overshot but isn’t sure how she’d even correct it. Abby looks like she’s about ready to come in for the kill, but somehow- surprisingly- Alex beats her to it.

She’s in Hope’s face the moment Hope is off the ground, and she might be shorter but she’s not _much_ shorter.

“If you’re gonna fight me, just do it,” Alex snarls, and Hope leans into her space, crackling, every nerve on fire. Kelley grabs her elbow but she yanks it away. If Alex has the guts to start something, Hope’s not going to deny her the opportunity to get taken down a few pegs. She might be the resident princess but Hope’s not going to cater to her paranoia.

“If I wanted to fight you,” she replies, watching Alex work her jaw, “I’d already have beaten you.”

Abby shoves Hope away from Alex and it’s too hard, so Hope stumbles back into Kelley who just manages to keep her upright. Christie has to intervene then, standing between the four of them- “Everybody cut it out.”

They do.

Not even Hope would challenge that.

“I’m sure Hope didn’t mean to catch you, Alex. Are you hurt?”

Alex shakes her head, but Abby doubts that she’s being honest about it, and when she shoots a significant look Christie’s way she gets what she’s hoping for.

“Abby, take her to go find Lauren, please. If I hear that the two of you got in each other’s faces again you’re not going to like the consequences.”

…

“I didn’t even mean to get on her case that time,” Hope mutters from her lawn chair. Kelley clears her throat, peeking over the edge of the roof. She can see the window of Tobin and Alex’s room if she picks it out; it’s still open and she wonders if they’re in there alone together now. Halfheartedly she wishes she could stop thinking about it.

“Alex has a short fuse,” she answers, but she’s not really considering it.

“I just don’t understand what the fuck she wants from me.”

Kelley shrugs, sidling back towards the makeshift umbrella Sydney has propped up on the roof. Hope isn’t underneath it but she looks like she has the kind of skin tone that just tans. She reaches up and tugs her straps down- tank top and bra- over her shoulders, to avoid the tan lines, and doesn’t even notice Kelley’s pained expression when she does it.

“She’s scared, that’s all.”

“Of me?”

“Of herself.”

Kelley squirms after she says it, uncomfortable. It’s like she’s divulging her best friend’s deepest secrets to a stranger, but at the same time she feels as if she owes Hope an explanation. Nobody else is going to help her out- it’s Kelley’s job to teach her and they don’t really have time to let Hope figure out that Alex’s fear is misdirected.

Thoughts of responsibility bring her to something she’d forgotten because the scuffle earlier and she twists in her own lawn chair to look at Hope, who’s got her sunglasses on and is trying her hardest not to think about seeing Abby or Alex again. She’s especially aggravated by Alex because she had really tried to cooperate, and only partially for her own sake. She’d wanted to make Kelley look good in front of Christie, because Kelley works so hard, and it had backfired and now she knows she’s going to have to think up another way.

“You, uh, have an option to tell me when your birthday is. And other stuff.”

Hope turns her head, lifting her glasses and fixing Kelley with a raised-eyebrow stare.

“Other stuff?”

“Personal stuff. Backstory stuff. Like I said, it’s an option.”

Kelley looks vaguely uncomfortable, but she’s trying. In the shade of the rigged umbrella she looks especially pale and freckly and Hope is overcome with a wave of completely unwarranted and completely unfair affection that makes her have to fight back a smile. Kelley’s been good to her. Kelley’s the only one here who’s been good to her with ho reservations, and although that’s her job Hope can’t help but be grateful.

Even if she’d never admit it out loud.

“July thirtieth.”

Kelley grins.

“Year?”

“You said it was an option.”

“You can’t possibly be old enough for that to be an intrusive question.”

Hope laughs, popping her sunglasses back up. 

“1981.”

Kelley does the math in her head, then blinks a few times, surprised. Hope doesn’t seem thirty. Hope seems sort of ageless, now that Kelley really puts thought into it; if she had to think of an age that seemed more appropriate she knows she wouldn’t be able to.

She feels infantile in comparison, now, though. Hope seems disengaged, so Kelley waits a moment before asking the next question.

“Anything else?”

Hope grins, smug before she even answers.

“Buy me a drink first.”

…

Alex is fine, as it turns out, and Lauren’s not needed. She goes back downstairs as soon as Lauren checks her out, flouncing into the kitchen where Megan and Lori and Sydney are taking their shift.

She pops up behind Megan and covers Megan’s eyes with her hands, biting back a laugh.

“God, who could it _possibly_ be?”

Lori just shakes her head, but Sydney answers, pulling her hair back.

“A girl who’s way too chipper for someone who’s got dish duty tonight.”

Alex lifts her hands, pulling a face at Sydney. She’d forgotten all about dish duty, and she’s trying to forget about training, too, and especially she’s trying to forget that she’s been up since five. What she wants is a nap, but she needs to eat something first.

“Unlike some people I don’t mind being helpful,” she shoots back, and Sydney rolls her eyes.

“I’m gonna go sit on the roof for a while.”

On her way out Sydney whacks at Alex’s ass, and Alex uses the handle of the fork in her hand to jab her offender in the ribs before there’s too much space between them for her to do any damage. Their laughter is contagious, but Megan sees Lori forcing it and makes a mental note of it. Alex digs through the fridge until she finds an Apple, and then she just sort of gives up, heading back for the stairs. In the threshold she pauses, turning back to them.

“Am I really on dish duty tonight?”

She waits as long as it takes for Megan and Lori to laugh at her, and then she shrugs and trots up the stairs, apple in hand.

…

The second Alex is out of earshot Megan turns to Lori, both eyebrows raised.

“Okay, what’s up with _her_?”

Lori hums a little, changing the channel on the radio to a different police feed.

“She’s not allowed to be cheerful?”

“You know.”

Lori doesn’t answer. Megan kicks her under the table until she does, rolling her eyes.

“Of course I know.”

Lori blinks when Megan gets out of her chair and comes around behind to squeeze her shoulders, but she doesn’t say anything, just pretends to be intently listening to idle cop chatter. Megan may not be a telepath, but when they’re alone together she might as well be. 

“What do I have to do to get you to tell me? Want a massage?”

“She’s thinking about Tobin a lot.”

She resolves that’s all she’s going to give, but Megan’s not satisfied, just confused, resting her forearm on Lori’s head like an armrest until it’s shaken off.

“Huh. _Huh_. That’s kinda funny.”

“We’re on shift.”

…

Tobin’s just wandering in when Alex curls up to nap, and for a second she almost closes the door again but Alex sits up and smiles at her so she decides against it.

“Hey. Sorry if I woke you up.”

“I wasn’t asleep yet.”

Tobin shuffles in the doorway for a second until Alex pats the bed next to her. It’s the first time they’ve done this in the daylight, but that’s not the only part that’s different. Tobin stretches out, and Alex pulls her knees in. 

They’re both adults. Legally and technically, they’re both adults. But when Alex reaches out and touches Tobin’s stomach, over her t-shirt, they’re both feeling like fifteen-year-olds, terrified and awkward and grinning too wide.

Tobin rolls onto her side and Alex kisses her and she swears it’s better every single time. This, whatever it is that they have, is something that nobody knows about, like the nightmares. But this is something new and warm and this is something Tobin wants to bottle up and keep with her forever, something that takes away whatever the night terrors bring. She wraps an arm around the small of Alex’s back and pulls her closer, but it knocks their knees together and when they pull apart to laugh their noses bump.

It takes them a few minutes to figure out how it all fits, but in the end it’s worth the occasional awkwardness, with Tobin’s hand curled against the elastic on the back of Alex’s shorts, and Alex’s knee trapped between hers. The kisses grow lazier and lazier and the combined warmth of the both of their bodies makes the original premise of a nap seem more and more appealing, until Alex nestles between the pillow and Tobin’s chin and takes the unspoken invitation.

They don’t even bother to wonder what it’d mean if someone had to come in to wake them up. 

...

Alex sleeps all the way through dinner, and Tobin doesn’t have the heart to wake her. She’ll have to get up eventually anyway because she’s got the overnight shift with Abby, so Tobin just sets the alarm and slips out of bed, careful not to make any noise. Nobody asks her where Alex is when they settle down to eat, so she assumes word has gotten around about training and they just don’t want to.

That’s the case, mostly. Hope in particular swears that Alex is purposely avoiding her (not that she minds), but she doesn’t say anything. She likes Tobin enough not to want to put her in a bad position. With Alex missing, Tobin fits right in between Kelley and Lauren, and when they give thanks she almost feels like she has something to give thanks for, too. 

Alex wakes up around eleven. Tobin’s not there, but she’s more surprised by how late it is than by the fact that she’s alone; it’s her stomach and not her alarm that’s dragged her out of sleep. She has an hour before her shift, and when she opens the window to check the weather outside it’s cold enough that she trades in her shorts for sweatpants and grabs a thin jacket before she heads downstairs.

Tobin’s in Lauren and A-Rod’s room; Alex can hear her laughing at something Lauren said. She thinks about sticking her head in but she’s not sure what she’d say, so she just pauses outside in the hallway for a moment. 

Abby’s already sprawled out on the couch with her feet on the table, a crossword puzzle in her lap and a pen twirling between her fingers. She lifts her free hand to wave at Alex, but she’s still focused on the puzzle until Alex is sitting in her usual armchair with lukewarm leftovers to give it up.

“You’re out here early,” Alex says, poking at her lasagna. Abby shrugs, stretching her hands over her head. 

“I let Becky’s group go an hour early. Figured I’d wake you and Bue up if I needed backup.”

Alex nods a little. Abby doesn’t go back to the crossword while Alex eats, she just sort of spaces out. She’s been trying not to think about Hope since the mugging but their altercation earlier has made that impossible. It’s the kiss she’d really like to forget- or more accurately the fact that she enjoyed it- but that’s not happening either. She presses the heels of her hands into her closed eyes and heaves a sigh, and Alex puts down her plate.

When she reaches over and nudges Abby’s knee with her hand, she leaves it there.

Abby cracks one eye open but doesn’t say a word.

“What’s up with you?”

“Hope kissed me.”

Alex laughs, because it seems like a joke, but when Abby squeezes her eyes shut again she cuts off abruptly and hops up on the arm of the couch, resting her bare feet on Abby’s lap.

“Really?”

“After the mugging.”

“Do you like her?”

“I’d like to kick her ass,” Abby admits. Alex reaches down and grabs the crossword puzzle. Abby’s erased more than usual; the newsprint is wearing thin in places.

“I didn’t realize you were into that,” Alex says. Abby opens both her eyes and gives probably the most incredulous look she’s ever given, resting a hand on Alex’s ankle.

“Seriously? I’m about as gay as you are straight.”

Alex clears her throat, dropping her eyes back to the crossword puzzle, and Abby gets the sudden feeling that she’s said something wrong again. She’s not sure what it could be, though, so she only waits a moment before she asks.

“What?”

Alex shrugs.

“Just, don’t jump to conclusions, that’s all.”

“ _What_?”

“I kissed Tobin this morning,” Alex says, raising an eyebrow, and try as she might to hide it the smile creeps onto her face, “and then again after that, and I’ll probably kiss her again when I see her again.”

Abby sits up a little, dislodging Alex’s feet, trying to work that sentence out in her head and failing.

“Are you guys- is that a thing?”

“I don’t know. It’s not like we’ve talked about it.”

…

There’s a fire on their watch, but by the time they get there the department’s already got things under control, and the three of them stand across the street and watch for a while, unsure whether to be relieved or mildly disappointed. There are other onlookers, presumably people who escaped the apartment before it burst into flame or neighbors, so they don’t look out of place.

Alex is looking up at the plume of smoke that disappears between buildings when she notices someone on the roof of the next building over. When she looks closer she sees there are two people, but the light doesn’t allow her to pick out gender or any other detail. When she turns to tell Abby to look, she realizes Abby’s already seen them- and Rachel has, too.

“What do you think?”

It’s Rachel who asks, and Abby knows the question is directed at her. She tilts her head, watching the figures sort of lean like they’re talking together, and Alex comes up with something when she glances back at the building and the firefighters.

“Arson?”

“Could be. I don’t think so, though.”

She can’t explain why she gets that feeling. By all means she should feel as though the coincidence is a sinister one, but something makes it seem like the two things aren’t connected. 

“I think they’re here to watch.”

…

Hope’s been moved to the 6 am shift, so that Alex has taken her shift with Abby back, and it’s the first time she’s ever been relieved to hear an alarm go off at five in the morning.

Kelley groans from the other bed, and Hope feels bad for a second until Kelley starts snoring again and she knows all is forgiven. Probably, eight hours from now, Kelley won’t even _remember_ the alarm. Still, Hope doesn’t want to wake her (mostly for fear of the revenge that would be coming her way if she did), so she takes her shower as quickly and as quietly as possible and sneaks out of the room and is downstairs in the kitchen by a quarter til.

She didn’t think it through.

Rachel smiles at her; she’s at the range with what looks like an omelet cooking. Before Hope can even say good morning, she hears Alex giggle, and she peeks into the living space to see that Alex and Abby are playing a card game, and Abby appears to be losing, if the fact that her head is in her hands is any indication.

Alex is smiling until she looks up and sees Hope, and then the smile dies on her lips.

“I give up,” Abby is saying, “this is the third time in a row I’ve been _one_ over twenty-one.”

Alex forces herself to smile at Hope and tries to pretend everything’s just fine. It’s what Tobin would want her to do, and it’s the /right/ thing to do. Her smile, though tremulous, gets a sort of awkwardly surprised and halfhearted wave from Hope, who wanders back into the kitchen to scavenge for some cereal.

Abby looks up just in time to see Alex smile, and when she turns her head to see who Alex is looking at nobody is there.

“Who was that?”

“Hope has the next shift,” Alex says, mostly under her breath, and Abby cranes so far off her seat to see into the kitchen that she knocks her knee against the coffee table.

At some point between twelve and one in the morning Tobin had been weaseled into taking Lauren’s six to twelve shift, so at five til she stumbles into the living space in a wrinkled t-shirt and Alex’s shorts. They might as well be hers, though; they share clothes all the time so it’s not like anything ought to be different. The shorts are too big on her and she’s just rolling them up when she sees Alex and Abby.

“I thought you had the noon to six?”

Alex can’t help but grin at Tobin, though, with her messy ponytail and the imprint of her pillow still pressed into cheek. Tobin drapes herself dramatically over Abby’s lap, throwing her forearm over her eyes.

“Cheney sucks.”

Abby digs her fingers into Tobin’s ribs and Tobin sits upright so fast she falls right onto the ground, scattering half the cards on the coffee table and laughing so angrily that it makes Alex crack up at how hard she’s trying _not_ to laugh.

“You awake now?”

Tobin ignores Abby, pushing at her knee, and addresses Alex as she gets back to her feet and pulls the shorts up from where they’ve sunk low on her hips.

“Who else has the six to twelve, do you know?”

“HAO, I think. And Hope.”

After a moment, as Tobin nods, Alex gets an idea. 

"Hey, c'mere."

Tobin must think there's something innocuous- some lint on her shirt, or something- because she steps in closer like she's not thinking about it. 

Alex reaches up, pulls Tobin down by the front of her shirt, and kisses her. 

It's just a peck. It's really nothing. She does it half because she doesn't think Abby believes her (Abby _doesn't_ believe it until she sees it) and half because she wants to see how Tobin reacts. 

Tobin just sort of blinks when she stands up straight, and then she smiles, slowly, surprised. 

"I'm gonna-" she gestures toward the kitchen, where Hope's already waiting, as Alex nods and smiles back at her and when she trips on her way out of the room Abby doesn't even try to hide the fact that she's laughing. 

...

"Check."

"Fuck. Again?"

HAO laughs and Tobin leans back in her chair, watching Hope try to figure the board out. She would have thought that Hope would be good at chess, but she seems to be the type to start out with a plan and end up tangling herself up halfway through. Tobin's not good at many board games, but chess she gets. She's good at the sacrifice. 

"It's the knight," she offers, pointing, and Hope waves her hand away. 

"Don't help me."

It's obvious. HAO doesn't understand how Hope doesn't see it. Predictably, she mucks up her only chance of escape, and Tobin barely has to move anything. 

"Mate."

"I hate chess.”

…

It’s Kelley’s off day, and that means it’s her turn to go grocery shopping- hers, and Christie’s, and Amy’s- so she forces herself to get up before ten even though her entire body is telling her to sleep in. Hope’s still on shift, and it’s weird to see her bed nmade and empty, but it’s nice to think she’s being useful.

Unless something happened and nobody told her.

She rushes through her shower and skips steps on the way down but it turns out that Hope _is_ being useful, or at least innocuous, watching HAO play Tobin in chess. Tobin’s winning, as usual. Kelley knows better than to try and play her at her own game, but there are a few people who insist that Tobin can be beaten. Heather’s one of them. Alex is, too, but Kelley’s decided not to think about that.

Hope looks up from the board to smile at her roommate, and things feel weird and domestic in a way that both startles and excites her. A week ago, when she’d imagined herself here, things were different- but now she doesn’t have to imagine. Now she’s here, and it’s starting to feel permanent, and if she wasn’t so terrified of it she’d be ecstatic.

Kelley leans over the back of Tobin’s chair and hugs her. Partially she does it because she just wants to and she can, but partially she does it because she feels like they’re slipping apart and the physical contact usually fixes that. The awkward angle prevents Tobin from hugging back, but she feels bad about not trying until HAO saves the day, coughing out a pronounced “ahem” until Kelley wanders over to the other side of the table and hugs her, too.

What happens next surprises everyone, _especially_ Hope, who hears the words come o of her mouth and isn’t sure who put them there: “What, I don’t get one?”

If Kelley's surprised she doesn't show it. She wraps her arms around Hope's neck; has to get on tiptoe to do it, and Hope hugs back. Sleep deprivation has made her unusually affectionate, but at least in another forty minutes it'll be her first shift without incident. That has to be a relief. 

The relief for Kelley is really that Hope hugs her back. 

...

It's rainy and windy and the twenty-odd walk to the supermarket is unpleasant. None of them complain, though Amy can see Kelley's holding it back, chin ducked into her windbreaker. 

"It was sunny just yesterday," she mumbles, and sympathetically Amy shifts to walk so that she's blocking most of the wind. Christie sighs a little, tilting her head up to the clouds, and then shakes her head. 

"Always on my day off. Every time."

They get what they'll need for the week and ignore the looks that they get while they do. Each of them gets a credit card, and a cart, and enough time to fill it. At checkout Kelley considers the plastic in her hand: made out to Christie, and used enough that the paint on the numbers is starting to wear off. 

Hope's questions have made her curious. It's dangerous to be curious and she knows that for a fact, but she _does_ wonder. Who pays the bills? How?

They're loaded down with groceries on the way back, filling empty backpacks and their arms and hands, so when Kelley asks Christie huffs up a hill before she answers. 

"I don't know. When I figured out my power, I got an unmarked letter telling me to go to an address and found the furnished headquarters. When I got there, there was an envelope with three credit cards and a bunch of cash in it. No explanation. Someone pays for it. I don't know who and I don't ask questions."

It's a reprimand, but it's a kind one. Kelley stops. 

... 

Alex is just waking up when Tobin wanders back to their room, half-asleep. She'd only manage four or so hours of sleep before her shift, which had mostly been poor planning because she was _supposed_ to have the later shift, but either way she needs a nap. 

Or, she needs a nap until she sees Alex sprawled out on her back, shirt bunched up over her belly button, the sun that shifts through the blinds kind of striping her. Her hair's a mess, but her smile is perfect, even sleepy as it is. 

Tobin's swept up by a wave of something hot and prickly that she hasn't felt in years and that she's afraid to put a name to. She pauses by her own bed, and Alex pulls her shirt down, blinking.

"Hi."

"Morning."

Alex's smile never falters. 

"How was your shift?"

"Boring. Um, mostly chess. How was your...bed?"

She knows it's stupid as soon as she says it, but she doesn't realize _how_ stupid until Alex pats the bedspread. 

"Good. Better with you in it."

It's an invitation. Alex is surprised when Tobin hesitates a little, and then she realizes that now that their dynamic has changed her suggestion means something a little different. She blushes when Tobin obliges, but she does everything slowly, haltingly- first one knee on the bed, then both, and then she falls forward onto her hands hovering so close over Alex that the loose strands of her ponytail brush Alex's nose and cheeks. 

Alex reaches up and tucks them away. In the process her fingers skim over Tobin's jaw and neck, and Tobin feels another hot, prickly rush. She dips her head and they kiss, and it's barely a minute before Tobin's hand is on Alex's stomach again, this time under her shirt. 

It's a big step forward. At least, it feels like it is. It's just skin, though, and it's not like she's never had a hand up someone's shirt before (she has, maybe twice, thanks to college). Still, she's awkward about it, and when her thumb dips into Alex's belly button she gets a laugh instead of what she wants. She's not sure _what_ she wanted, but that wasn't it. 

Tobin starts to pull her hand away but Alex grabs it by the wrist, afraid she's giving off the wrong vibes. Without the ability to say what she's thinking- or even _understand_ what she's thinking- she goes with her other option and pulls Tobin's hand further under her shirt until it's resting over her bra. 

Tobin's eyes go as big as dinner plates, and her mouth falls open a little and she's flushed with her hair in her face again. Alex searches her face for any kind of readable reaction, but Tobin just seems kind of dumbfounded until very suddenly a look of focus comes over her face and she presses her thumb in.

Alex sighs, lets out a soft little half-moan, and the heat is back. 

She wonders if Alex feels it too.

They’re kissing again when Kelley bangs unceremoniously on the door, and Tobin rolls off the bed and scrambles onto her own before the door opens. 

Alex’s shirt is pushed up again. Kelley knows exactly what’s been going on, or she can at least tell that they’ve been doing _something_ , because Alex is bright red, and Tobin is muffling her giggles into the crook of her arm, and she’s not sure whether she’s mad or nauseous but whatever it is she doesn’t like it.

“Breakfast is ready,” she says, and she puts a little sting into it just because she can, “if anyone in this room is interested.”

“I’ll come down in a minute.”

Tobin won’t, but she doesn’t get a chance to say so before the door closes again, and she doesn’t get a chance to say _anything_ before Alex has switched beds and is lying half-on-top of her.

“Go back to sleep,” she says, kissing the corner of Tobin’s mouth.

“After that?”

“You’ll manage. I need to eat.”

“It’s a good thing I wasn’t enjoying that, I guess.”

…

Kelley scowls all the way through breakfast no matter how hard she tries not to. The rain seeped in and settled as deep as her bones. It doesn’t help that the rain and the training and the overnight shift don’t seem to have dampened _Alex’s_ mood at all, and she’s the life of the table. Kelley can’t even sit near her because she’s afraid she won’t be able to stop thinking about Tobin.

The worst part is that they still haven’t bothered to tell her about it.

Everyone pretty much knows, now. It’s not like they’re being super secretive about it, it’s just that Kelley thought they were close enough for her to get some kind of special heads up. Even something as simple as “hey be careful to knock before you come in because we might be making out”. She had to come up with it all herself, and it’s inconsiderate, but it’s just as inconsiderate for her to be upset about it and she knows it so she keeps her mouth shut unless she’s sticking toast in it.

Jill notices. 

She knows about Alex and Tobin half because she’s noticed that too and half because nobody can really keep their mouths shut about it (or anything), so it’s not a big step to take to assume that Kelley’s uncharacteristic silence has something to do with it.She can see out of the corner of her eye that Amy’s watching, too, and when they’re done eating and Kelley wanders into the kitchen to do dishes she takes Amy aside and proposes her plan.

The closest movie theater is kind of homey and the carpet looks like it’s been chewed on, but it’s something different, and Jill can tell it’s doing the trick when Kelley starts trying to decide which candy to get. She’s weighing the pros and cons of Junior Mints versus Sour Patch Kids, and while she argues with herself about it, Amy buys both and a tub of popcorn for the three of them to share, just because she can.

Kelley sits in between them and they’re the only three in the theater, because the movie they’re seeing has been out for two weeks and it’s the middle of the day on a Wednesday. As it turns out, that works out well, because Kelley mocks every bad advertisement under her breath until the other two are laughing into their drinks and afraid to eat or drink for fear of choking. 

She quiets down once the movie starts, captivated and grinning almost the whole way through it. Away from headquarters she can breathe again, and she almost feels normal like this- like a twenty-something hanging out with her friends on a rainy day off instead of what she knows she is- so she decides she’s going to try and bottle up this feeling for later. It occurs to her at one point that maybe this is a pity date, but in the end she decides it doesn’t really matter whether it is or it isn’t. Either way she’s out and with people who care about her, and that’s rare enough for her to enjoy it no matter the circumstances.

Well, at least, she enjoys it until she’s home again, and Jeopardy is starting, and Tobin is sitting with her back against the headboard of her bed and Alex is sitting between Tobin’s legs and using them like they’re the arms of a chair, and then Kelley’s frustration boils over and she hits the mute button on the remote so hard that it sticks.

“So were you guys ever going to, like, _tell_ me you were dating, or what?”

They turn together so much in unison that it would almost be funny if it weren’t.

Tobin shifts a little, scooting to the side so that Alex isn’t in her lap anymore, but Alex is the one who speaks.

“Do you- I mean, is that a problem?”

It’s not supposed to be accusatory. Kelley knows Alex enough to know it’s a real, innocent question. The thing is, like this, here and now, she can see why Hope is frustrated with Alex’s attitude.

“God. No. I don’t give a shit if you guys want to date. I don’t have anything against it and I really don’t care except that I’m supposed to be your best friend and I had to figure it all out on my own.”

Tobin stretches out her legs again, trying to be casual, trying to diffuse the situation, but Alex has already bristled and Kelley is already mad so in her heart she knows it’s not going to work.

“It’s not like it was a _secret_ , Kel.”

“That’s not the fucking _point_! You could have at least said something! It’s not about whether or not it was obvious it’s like, it’s a common courtesy.”

Alex falls quiet, shocked by Kelley’s anger and her harsh language, but Tobin looks up to make eye contact since the conversation started.

“I didn’t realize we were being inconsiderate.”

It’s disarming, but Tobin’s almost always disarming when she’s this sincere. Kelley’s anger dissipates and she scrambles to hold on to it, to maintain her righteousness even when Tobin climbs over Alex and joins Kelley on the extra bed. Extra, now that Tobin and Alex are probably sharing one. Whatever.

“Kel.”

“I know.” 

Tobin knocks her to the bed on her side and hugs her so hard she can’t move her arms from her sides. Kelley squirms, trying hard not to laugh, and failing, for the most part.

“I’m sorry,” Tobin says, and then breaks into song, rolling Kelley onto her back and clinging to her like a koala.

“Baby come back! You can blame it all on me-”

“Tobin,” Kelley’s laughing properly now, and Alex breaks into a grin, “...oh my God, okay! Okay, okay, stop singing!”

Tobin doesn’t stop until Kelley wriggles out of her grip and gets a hand over her mouth, but by then all is forgiven anyway.

…

When Abby files the incident report from her and Alex’s last shift, Christie finds her and calls her in to talk about it. There’s no ‘cause’ listed for the fire, just a somewhat detailed report of the fire itself, and how long it had taken to get put out. Abby doesn’t know what to say.

Christie tries on her own, giving suggestions that make sense, but that Abby doesn’t seem too eager to agree with.

“Accident? Arson?”

Abby shrugs.

“I don’t know. It’s in an older part of the city, so it was probably a mechanical fire.”

“Probably’s gonna have to be good enough, huh?”

“It was too burnt up by the time we got there for us to get a good look at it without risking injury.”

“I understand.”

Something doesn’t lay right, though, as if Abby’s hiding something, and that’s so out of character that she has to keep probing out of curiosity.

“Did you just forget to put a cause down?”

“The others thought it might be arson, because there were two people on the roof of the building across the street. It just...I don’t know. It didn’t feel right to peg them for it. I don’t know why.”

Christie scribbles down “accident”.

...

Megan finds Tobin on one of the balconies of the training floor. It's an accident, because she's not _looking_ for anyone, but she goes with it anyway, mostly because the whole situation piques her interest. Not in a pushy way, just in a curious way- and Tobin's her friend and someone she trusts and loves, even if she doesn't understand the whole religion thing- so she takes the other old wicker chair and sits cross-legged, taking her time.

Tobin's reading. She's got two books with her, but the one that's open is the Bible.

"So, you and Alex, huh?"

Tobin startles, because she hadn't noticed Megan at all until she spoke, and then grins a little bit, marking her spot on the page with her index finger.

"Dang," she laughs, "word gets around fast."

"Nobody said anything to me," Megan assures her, or at least she _tries_ to be reassuring. It doesn't do much to help the situation. 

"I guess we thought we were being pretty sneaky about it. At least I did."

Megan doesn't want to admit that she made Lori tell her what she was getting from Alex, vibe-wise, so she changes the subject to something even _less_ tactful. It's something that she's trying to work out, though, in her own head, and if there's anyone who won't be offended by her asking it's Tobin. Abby's still a little too bitter to get into it with her.

Gesturing to the Bible in Tobin's lap, she steers the conversation in a different direction: "How do you do both?"

Tobin closes the book and sets it on top of the other one, at the ground by her feet. She wants to ask for clarification but she knows what the question is, and, all things considered, she's really not surprised by it. Someone was bound to ask her eventually, anyway. For all she knows Alex still might. She has to take a second to gather her thoughts, because she's not really a talker and she's never had to verbalize it before, but Megan is patient and she deserves the most honest, thorough answer.

"I guess my God's a little different than everyone else's."

There's hang time after that, because Megan doesn't think that's the end and Tobin doesn't know what else to say. 

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, the people who go around saying homosexuality's a sin cause God said so, their God's not my God."

Megan uncrosses her legs, leaning forward a little to show her interest, but she's even more confused than she was before.

"How does that work? Doesn't it say something in the Bible about stoning people for sodomy, or whatever?"

"Not really. I mean, it's implied, I guess."

"But can you do that? I mean, just like...pick and choose?"

Tobin thinks on that for a moment, taping her fingers against her knee. She knows her way of thinking isn't the way most people think. She's not just like that about religion, she's like that about everything- a little weird, and little different. Her senior superlative had been "most likely to always march to the beat of her own drum" or something equally condemning, but she's used to it, and she doesn't mind it. Especially not here, where that makes her blend in.

"I think you have to. The Bible's just a book, you know? I mean, it's just a really good book. The Book. But at the end of the day that's all it is. It's not the be all end all of God's Word. You gotta have a relationship with Him yourself. Reading the Bible's not the whole deal."

"So you don't think Jesus really walked on water?"

Tobin laughs a little, glad for Megan's frankness, because if she were talking to someone who would tiptoe around it things would be much more difficult for her.

"I think that's not the point. Maybe He did, maybe He didn't. Either way, this is...it's not a platform for judging people. It's a platform for loving people."

...

On Friday Lori comes down with a cold and Alex has to cover her shift, so Hope and Abby end up taking the twelve to six alone together. For the next five and a half hours nothing much happens. They break up a mugging- or, more accurately, Abby does- and then they sit around, purposefully not acknowledging the other’s existence.

The second time it’s Abby that initiates the kiss, and Hope isn’t expecting it. She’s not surprised that they’re somewhere nobody will see or hear them, though, at the end of their shift in a far hallway where the chances of discovery are relatively low. She’s mostly just surprised there’s any interest in the first place. The first time she had felt something- something she wasn’t sure could be entirely due to the adrenaline rush of Abby basically threatening to kill her- but this time she knows it’s not that, because there’s no hand around her throat, just Abby’s lips on hers in the dark of early morning.

Abby doesn’t know what she’s doing. All she knows is that when Hope had dragged her in for that kiss three days ago she had been completely surprised by how much she liked it. Hope is gorgeous in a very femme way, facially, but physically she has the stature to match Abby blow for blow, and that’s not something she’s used to being attracted to. Not to mention there’s still the fact that they hate each other, and that a large part of her wants to throw Hope through a wall, but she’s never been good at fighting instinct so she doesn’t bother. Hope responds immediately, but for a long moment neither of them makes any move to touch the other.

Hope loses her patience first and grabs at Abby’s shirt by her ribs, pulling her forward until they’re pressed together. She’s not sure why it should feel so right to do that, or why she’s comfortable at all when Abby lifts a hand to the back of her head, considering she hates Abby’s hyper-loyal martyr-obsessed guts, but the fact remains that it _does_ feel right and she _is_ comfortable and she doesn’t want to stop, so she doesn’t.

Abby is so conscious of her own power that she completely forgets Hope’s, and when, a few minutes later, Hope’s hand slips under her shirt, she outright jumps. Her side is stinging from the contact and Hope’s glowing, literally, and not looking half as guilty as she should. “Your fucking hands are on fire,” Abby hisses, leaning in to capture Hope’s lips again instead of waiting for an answer. It’s not fire, though, just sparks, and Hope never leaves her hand for long enough to burn, just long enough that there are prickles of heat along Abby’s ribcage and lower back.

"Shouldn't you be on ever-vigilant watch, Superwoman?" 

Hope mutters it against Abby's mouth, catching the back belt loop of Abby's jeans and pushing her own hips forward. 

This is what Abby hates about Hope- she belittles everything that defines their lifestyle- condensed into one caustic little aside. The thing is, though, even if it's _Hope_ it's still hips grinding forward into hers and a hand pressed against her sternum, under her shirt and over her bra, and she's not going to stop what she's started now. It's been months. It's been since _Sarah_. 

She has needs, too. She's human just like anyone else, or at least close to it. 

Hope likes that she's found a weakness; a way to dig under Abby's skin, and she has a feeling Abby's bite is going to be better than her bark. That feeling turns out to be accurate; Abby grabs her by the waist and drags her into the nearest room, an uninhabited guest-style suite, and outright slams Hope into a wall.

The breath leaves her, but Abby has a hand on the back of her head that keeps her from actually being hurt- a moment of foresight that seems oddly out of character- so she doesn’t let the lack of air stop her. It’s about power, really, not that Abby’s really surprised. Hope bites down hard on Abby’s lower lip, distracting her, and she fists a hand into Abby’s shirt and flips them so that _Abby’s_ up against the wall. It’s barely a moment before Hope lets go of that hand long enough to pull her own shirt over her head, leaving her hair wild and revealing more skin than Abby knows what to do with.

She knows the expectation instinctively- they’re not there to undress each other- and sheds her own shirt before she reaches out to touch. She’s drawn by Hope’s shoulders and arms, first, so that’s where her hands go as Hope shimmies out of her jeans. She’d had no perception of Hope as weak but she’s more than strong, she’s raw muscle and still somehow so feminine that it throws Abby off worse than she imagined. 

Abby’s so distracted by that, by the contrast between muscle and the parts of Hope that are soft and full, that when Hope switches their positions yet again she’s not ready for it. It doesn’t make much sense, either, that Hope’s put herself with her own back to the wall- vulnerable- until she pushes down violently on Abby’s shoulders. Superstrength only works when Abby’s being active, and she’s too surprised to push back so Hope’s shove sends her to her knees on the hardwood floor with a thud and a grimace. She thinks about fighting it for a moment; thinks about trying to get up, but there’s a warning bright in Hope’s eyes and Abby knows better than to think she’s powerless, even on her knees.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” Hope says, goaded on by the half a second of hesitation, and in response Abby grabs her by the hips and pushes her back into the wall again.

“Don’t tempt me,” she says, and it’s half a snarl and half a warning because no matter _how_ much she doesn’t like someone she’s not here to hurt people- even Hope.

“Don’t give me a reason to,” is Hope’s reply, and Abby wants to say something about how Hope seems to always have to have the last word but instead she gives in and presses a kiss to Hope’s stomach, running her hands from Hope’s hips down her legs and taking her underwear with them. Hope knows what she wants, and that makes it easier for both of them; she buries her hands in Abby’s hair and directs her.

Hope is vocal and Abby is surprised at how little that surprises her. She’s not excessive about it, but if Abby had to bet she’d bet that Hope _wants_ someone to come and find them, and if she weren’t on her knees she’d reach up and cover Hope’s mouth but as it is her hands are busy, one braced against the wall and one splayed over Hope’s abs. 

Abby uses Hope’s near-constant moans and the shift and flex of her muscles to gauge how close she is, and when Hope’s breath starts to come fast and shallow she pulls back.

She looks up a little and Hope glowers at her, fingernails scraping over her scalp, and just like that Abby knows she has the power back. 

Abby’s smirking and Hope has no patience for it, so she drops one of her hands to the back of Abby’s neck and digs her fingers in.

“I’ll finish the job myself if you don’t,” she says, trying to force her voice to stay steady even as breathless as she is, “I’m perfectly capable.” 

Abby doesn’t answer, she just takes her hand off the wall and slides it between Hope’s legs, replacing the pressure of her mouth with the pressure of her index finger and watching as Hope struggles not to react.

Abby’s not giving her enough, and Hope knows that’s the point; she’s trying to assert her dominance again. The thing is, at this point, Hope could care less about dominance- she wants to get off, and Abby is no longer helping- so she pushes down again at Abby’s shoulders. There’s more resistance this time, but once she’s on the ground, too, Abby takes it, sprawling out on her back and bringing her hands to Hope’s hips.

"Jeans," Hope mutters, lifting herself so that Abby can unbutton and remove them. Once she has, Abby's hands go right back to Hope's hips. Hope straddles Abby's leg, trapping it between her thighs, and Abby lifts it, taking the hint. 

Abby doesn't completely give up her fight until Hope starts up a rhythm, and then she thinks she really doesn't mind losing if that means she gets to sit back and watch this happen. Hope rocks her hips forward, very simply using Abby’s leg for the friction she needs so badly, and Abby takes it in, from the line of Hope’s arm where she’s bracing against the floor, her hair falling into her face, her lips parted.

When Hope’s worked herself back to the point that Abby took her to she reaches between Abby’s legs and beneath her underwear, because she knows that if Abby’s going to want to do this again she’s going to have to get some reciprocation. Abby’s not expecting it and she hisses, bucking her hips up and almost dislodging Hope, who digs the fingers of her free hand into Abby’s shoulder in warning.

Thankfully their inability to mesh personally doesn’t extend to this. Between Hope’s hand and Abby’s hips they manage a rhythm that’s nowhere near tender or languid, and somehow they come together, Abby a split second before and Hope dropping her forehead to Abby’s shoulder so that she can bite down on something and keep from making _too much_ noise. Not that she cares. Just for longevity.

When she can breathe properly again, Hope peels her hand off Abby’s shoulder, takes her hand out of Abby’s underwear, and gets unsteadily to her feet. She gathers her clothes and slips into them without making eye contact with Abby, leaving her to fend for herself. She’s considerably slower to rise.

Mostly Abby’s trying to understand what’s just happened. She’d initiated it, but she hadn’t expected them to get this far, and she’s definitely a little dumbstruck. For a second she wonders if she’s allowed to watch Hope dress, but at this point she doesn’t care about the consequences, she just sits up using one arm and watches Hope pull her jeans back up.

They fit really, really nicely. Abby’s never noticed that before. She’s never bothered to.

“You gonna put your clothes back on, or is this a crime scene?”

“What was that?”

“If I have to explain it to you we probably shouldn’t be doing it.”

Abby gets to her feet, swaying on numbed legs and grabbing her jeans off the ground.

“We’re on shift.”

“Actually we’re not anymore. But we were. I didn’t see you complaining.”

“Hard to complain with your-”

Hope balls up Abby’s shirt and throws it at her so that it hits her in the face and cuts her off. She’s smirking, almost smiling despite herself, and she’s decided she likes Hope a lot better after having sex with her. 

“So are we gonna make this a thing? I mean, it’s pretty convenient.”

“If I decide I want to do it again? You’ll know.”

…

When they get there Christie thinks it’s just a massive fire, and she’s only mildly worried. They can all take care of themselves in a situation like this, and the firemen don’t hate them the way the cops do. In fact, eventually it’s like they start the become a cohesive group, and she teams up with the squad car, who point out things that are blocking the way- broken windows, the innards of the building- that she can help by disintegrating. Rachel surrounds the ambulance area with a force field, and Cheney ducks in and out, ensuring that as many people are getting helped as possible; the fire starts to wane before A-Rod even hears the gunshot.

It’s the perfect crime- burn something down so that everyone is distracted, and it’s too loud to hear what’s happening- unless you take into account the team of freelance superheroes. 

Hope and Kelley are fighting the fire together side by side- or trying- when something catches Hope’s eye and she drags Kelley with her around the side of the building that’s not on fire yet. It’s dangerous. The windows could blow out at any second, and she _knows_ that, but her instincts tell her there’s something important happening where everyone’s not looking.

She’s right, but Kelley sees them first and she freezes. There are at least six men, at least three of them armed. The best thing for them to do is to disappear, to go get help and come back with backup, but they don’t get the chance. 

Abby saw them go and her natural curiosity as well as her need to protect _everyone_ made her follow, but she’s so focused on them that she doesn’t see the danger and she blows what little cover they had with one word: “Guys?”

Hope’s reaction is much less helpful than Kelley’s. She whirls to face Abby, startled and furious, and Kelley- Kelley does exactly what she ought to do and multiplies, so that when the group of men turn toward Abby’s voice they face a wall of people that are all frighteningly identical. It has the potential to do one of two things: either the men will be stunned long enough for them to make a run for it, or they’ll shoot on sight.

Today is not their day.

Abby shoulders through the wall of Kelleys, the men raise their guns, and Hope faces a split-second decision: tackle Kelley to the ground and risk tackling the wrong one, or save Abby and leave Kelley exposed to a volley of gunfire? What is the probability that gunfire will miss the real Kelley? Will the real Kelley be able to handle the simultaneous pain of multiple gunshot wounds to extraneous duplications?

“I’ll shoot!” one of the men calls, and one of the Kelleys glances at Hope. It has to be the real one. The safeties click off one by one, Kelley shouts, and Hope slams into Abby’s back with enough force that they hit the ground together a heartbeat before shots are even fired.

Abby rolls over and is on her feet within seconds. Hope reaches for her ankle, toppling her again before she can be hit; behind them Kelleys are screaming and disappearing and the real one collapses just as Amy rushes past them with a howl so ferocious even Abby refuses to move. One of the men aims to shoot but Hope strikes the gun out of his hand with the hand that’s not holding Abby’s ankle, and by then Amy is a fully-grown lion with her paws on his chest and her eyes set on another.

It’s chaos. Abby kicks her foot free and follows Amy into the fray; Shannon and Christie are right behind her. Hope struggles to her feet just in time to see HAO scoop Kelley off the ground, her shirt stained red, and they make the briefest of eye contact before HAO is gone around the corner and replaced by Megan and Alex. 

It’s not the first time Hope’s fucked up, but it’ll be the last time.

...

She wants to go back for Kelley but she’s also afraid of the damage, so she throws herself into the fight with abandon and refuses to think about it, about anything but the task at hand. When it’s over, they all fall silent and still, the fire’s roar dimmed, panting and choking on smoke. Nobody looks at Hope. Nobody but Abby.

"What the hell were you doing?"

Abby's pissed, and Hope takes a step back despite herself, and she juts her chin out. "Saving your big ass, that's what. How about a 'thank you, Hope'?"

"You left Kelley wide open."

" _You_ were wide open."

"I can handle myself. Kelley's a kid."

Most of the others either turn to go or watch without offering Hope any help, but, surprisingly, it’s Christie that comes to her defense: “Kelley’s just as capable of handling herself as anyone else. You should be grateful that you’re still _alive_.” Abby grunts, turning away, and Hope tries not to think about what that sentence means for Kelley. 

None of them much want to think about it, but Abby dwells on it, frustrated in part by knowing that Kelley is hurt, and in part by the idea that Hope doesn’t think she knows what she’s doing. Unlike Hope, though, she doesn’t realize the extent of the damage until they round the corner and see that Lauren has deserted the EMTs and is crouched over Kelley, who is too still and too small. 

For a long moment Abby thinks that Kelley is dead.

Alex is a few feet away, craning her neck like she wants to see but is also too scared to take a step closer; Rachel is kneeling by Lauren’s side and speaking quietly to her, and an EMT hovers for a moment before going back to his own job, waved away.

Lauren can handle everything she’s encountered in the past. Cuts, bruises, scratches, the occasional hairline fracture are all very approachable tasks; at the very worst she’s left with an exhaustion headache after the fact but the good that she does outweighs any unpleasant side effect. This is different. She can heal the wound over, and she does, but as Rachel confirms, Kelley’s bound to have some internal damage. She hasn’t lost much blood, but in a way that’s worse; the EMTs refuse to take a look at her because they don’t trust that her biology is the same as everyone else’s and the frustration makes Lauren’s hands shake and her focus waver. 

“Breathe,” Rachel says, but the only movement Lauren can feel is the slow and shallow rise and fall of Kelley’s ribs. Alex decides there’s not much more she can take, and just as she does Abby is there with a comforting hand between her shoulder blades. 

“I can run her to a hospital,” HAO says, and Rachel shakes her head.

“They won’t take her.”

Lauren interjects, “I can do it.”

But can she? Is she sure?

She puts her faith in herself, in her gift- in God’s gift to her- and repeats it, steeling her resolve, “I can do it. Just run her back to HQ.”

“Can she go a few minutes without you?”

"She'll have to."

...

It hurts, hurts, hurts; Kelley is conscious, she thinks, but she doesn’t know how to tell them and she can’t open her eyes or move anything. All she knows is that she _knows_ , that she’s aware, and breathing still, and there are hands on her stomach and every single breath she takes sends a throb of pain through her so deep she swears it’s going to rip her apart. 

She’d rather not be aware. She’d rather not feel the hurt, hurt, hurt of her heartbeat, each pump of blood like another nail in the coffin. She wonders whose hands. She wonders how long she can take before she blacks out again.

When she remembers to, she wonders if Hope made it out okay.

.,.

For the first eight hours, Lauren doesn’t move.

Kelley is pale, and even though she appears asleep she tenses up again and again, and sometimes whimpers, and Lauren knows she’s fighting just as hard as she looks like she is. She _knows_ , because it’s taking everything in her to help, and it’s a good thing that Kelley is young and healthy and strong or she’d have been gone hours ago.

Amy joins her in the first hour; Lauren can see that she wants to help but instead of hovering like Abby and Hope she sits and offers physical support, leaning their shoulders together and not saying a word. 

Abby hovers for the first thirty minutes of the third hour, clearing her throat occasionally but never breaking a three-foot barrier around the bed. She stands still with her hands in her pockets like she’s afraid if she touches so much as a doorknob she’ll break it, and it seems like she wants to say something, but she never does. She just stands until she leaves.

Hope paces. She’s there well into the third hour, pacing, stopping occasionally to glance Kelley’s way. She tenses whenever Kelley makes a sound, no matter how small- she can hear it all- and her body feels so heavy that it eventually takes too much effort to stay there. She passes Abby in the hallway.

Neither of them says, “it was your fault”. Both of them think it.

Four hours in Amy leaves, and she comes back with water and soup. Lauren shakes her head, but she’s not going to get away with it- “You have to,” Amy threatens, her tone just shy of commanding, “you can’t help her if you pass out from dehydration or fatigue.”

“I can’t take my hands off of her,” Lauren admits, eventually, and Amy doesn’t hesitate to spoonfeed her.

.,.

It’s Alex that breaks it, eight hours in. Amy’s still there, reading now, and Alex knows what she has to do even if she doesn’t want to and isn’t sure that she’s really capable of it. She pauses in the doorway for a moment, taking it in, and when she speaks only Amy jumps.

“I’m... I can help. You can sleep, Cheney, as long as you’re still in the room, I can...substitute.”

“You don’t have to.” 

She means ‘I wouldn’t want you to have to’, but Alex won’t give, so Lauren just nods, and when Alex takes over she murmurs a quiet and heartfelt ‘thank you’ that sounds like it’s on the verge of tears.

She curls up in the other twin bed; Hope’s bed, or at least her old one, and she’s asleep within minutes. Amy leaves, thanking Alex with a gentle hand on her shoulder, and Alex is left alone to fight Kelley’s battle.

She never wanted to see her best friend so still. She can see the tiny beads of sweat on Kelley’s forehead, and each individual little vein in her eyelids, because her skin is so pale it might as well be translucent there. There and on the insides of her wrists. One of her hands is outstretched, like it’s waiting for another hand to fill it.

Two hours into Alex’s shift, Hope’s hand does.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's like plugging holes in a dam- when one closes another pops up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: suicide/ideation. Please be careful, I really want to avoid triggering anyone!

Alex is half asleep when she switches with Lauren, who's well-rested and fed after six hours off. That's why she doesn't notice that something's off right away, when she stumbles into the kitchen to eat something before she passes out. 

She doesn't notice until she realizes Abby's sat down on her left, and Christie on her right, and everything starts to feel wrong. Like something's missing. Like everyone knows something she doesn't know.

She pauses int he middle of her mac and cheese with her spoon halfway to her mouth and looks at Abby.

"What? What's going on?"

Christie clears her throat from Alex's other side, wondering if there's a way to ease into it and wanting to try at least.

"How is Kelley doing?"

"She's...better."

There's another prolonged pause, where Abby fidgets and Christie looks for all the world as if Alex has just said that Kelley wasn't going to make it. Kelley _is_ going to make it. Eventually. There has to be something else for them to have cornered her like this, and Alex is too tired to realize that Christie doesn't want to tell her, and that Abby wants _too much_ to tell her, so she goes back to eating until Abby can't help it and blurts it out: "Tobin's missing."

She immediately wishes she had kept her mouth shut. Nothing is worse than the way Alex's face goes from confusion to utter loss in seconds, not even watching Kelley get shot, or knowing that it cold have- and should have- been her. 

"What?"

But she's heard them. Christie knows it, and Abby knows it, and they're all glad that the kitchen is otherwise empty because Alex drops her spoon with a clatter and staggers to her feet.

" _What?_ "

Abby reaches for her but Christie's voice is what makes her fists stop clenching: "She wasn't here when we got back. We were all so preoccupied with Kelley that we didn't notice. We figure it's been something like fourteen hours."

"We have to report it!"

"She's not a missing person until it's been twenty four," Abby says, but that's not even the real argument. None of them are supposed to exist. They can't buy alcohol because they don't have IDs, because they are supposed to be nameless, because they are supposed to be impossible to find.

It's never occurred to him how dangerous that could be. Not until now.

-

She was supposed to be a hero.

Tobin can name heroes without superpowers. Batman, and Iron Man, and the Black Widow. She knows that it's not up to those of them with active powers just to save the day, and when everyone but her left HQ behind for the fire, she wanted to do something, too. There had to be _something_. Even just a patrol around the block.

Except that a patrol around the block turned into a patrol into the evening, where she got a little bit lost,a nd then on her way back she overheard what sounded like a burglary- things being knocked over and muffled movement and a shadow across a doorstep, and it was late enough that anyone would be asleep, and all the lights were off, and the window was smashed so she figured it had to be a burglar.

But it wasn't a burglar. It was a half-naked guy wandering around his dark kitchen in the middle of the night whose window just so happened to be smashed in, and when Tobin climbed in to save him, _she_ ended up being the burglar. And when he had panicked and told her to stand still so he could call the police, she couldn't even argue with him about it, because she couldn't tell him why she was _really_ there without getting herself and everyone she loved in more trouble, so she let the police come, and admitted she climbed in through the window, and they took her to jail.

They told her she got one phone call, but she had nobody _to_ call.

Tobin sits with her back against the wall, on the floor instead of on the cot, and tries not to wonder whether it's possible that someone will know to come find her.

-

In the end it's hearsay that saves them.

Alex stops in a diner to grab herself something to eat, because she never finished her mac and cheese and she doesn't really even know where to _start_ to look. She sits at the bar because it's too depressing to sit by herself at a real table. It's there that she starts listening to conversations and trying to pretend they're hers, and it's there that she overhears the guy two seats down telling his buddy something weird over a beer and a burger.

"It was fuckin' bizarre, I'm telling you. Chick climbs through my busted window and just stands there telling me she thought I was being robbed. What the fuck kind of girl climbs in a window to stop a robbery? She had to have been high out of her mind. Cops said she wasn't but I don't believe 'em."

For the second time that night Alex drops her meal halfway through. This time she has to rush to pay for it, and when she does she leans over the counter to talk to the bartender under her breath.

"Where's the nearest police station?"

"Ericsson. Why?"

"I'm- my brother lost his wallet and we think maybe it was stolen, I just need to report it."

She's not sure why she said 'brother'. She doesn't have a brother, she has sisters. Maybe she made up a brother so that she didn't have to think about the fact that her sisters think she's dead. Not that it worked.

She picks up a map at a bus stop and finds her way to the first precinct, practically shaking in her shoes. If it's Tobin, like she thinks it is, and Tobin's not _dead_ , like everyone _else_ thinks she is, then her bravery will be well compensated. if it's not she doesn't know what she'll do. The man at the front desk is less than happy to be spoken to, which seems a little backwards, but when he hears Alex's voice shake he seems to soften up a bit.

"I- I'm looking for someone."

"Are you filing a missing persons report?"

"No, sir. I think, I mean, someone was arrested and I think she might be my friend. Her family doesn't live around here so I'm the only one who can post her bail, or whatever. Sir."

"You don't have to call me sir, I didn't pull you over. What's her name?"

They all have civilian names, scrambles of their real ones, and Alex struggles to remember Tobin's before it comes to her and she chokes it out: "Thea Benoit."

"She a breaking-and-entering kinda gal? Cause that's what I have her down as."

"No, it was a mistake. She thought the guy inside was being robbed."

"So then she was trespassing."

"Yes, sir. I mean, yes. But she was trying to help."

"She was still trespassing. That's a class three misdemeanor."

"So then what's her bail?"

"Was 2.5k, but if she really wasn't intending to steal..."

"I can guarantee you that she wasn't. I'd swear on a Bible in front of a jury that she wasn't."

"If the guy files a lawsuit you might have to. If she wasn't intending to steal her bail's 300."

"I'll pay it. I have the cash."

He looks up at her, eyes a little narrowed, and she reaches into her purse for the money knowing exactly how shady this all looks and hoping she can play her vulnerable look and her actual fright to her advantage. Her hand shakes when she puts the hundreds down.

"Who _are_ you?"

"Maegan Earl."

"You have to fill out paperwork. Address, phone number, email. Stuff like that."

"I don't- we're students. Graduates, I mean. We don't have jobs and we don't have any money, so we can't afford a phone and we mostly hop from motel room to motel room, I can't.... we don't have anything to write down."

She lets her voice crack at the end and pushes it a little further, trying to morph the balding guy in front of her into her dad. If she can manage that, she knows she'll be able to cry, and it's cheating and it's wrong but Tobin needs her so she does it anyway. She pushes the bills forward and a tear slips down her cheek and the reception cop sighs.

-

Tobin doesn’t speak the entire way back to headquarters, but Alex stops her before the door and drags her in for a long kiss. 

“I didn’t realize bailing your girlfriend out of jail was romantic,” Tobin mutters, but she still won’t meet Alex’s eye.

“I thought you were dead.”

Tobin turns away, presses a hand to the brick wall next to the front door where her fingertips catch on the mortar. 

“Why would I be dead?”

Alex can think of a thousand reasons off the top of her head, but she picks the truest and goes with it, letting all the hurt and fear of the last two days out in one breath: “I didn’t want to think you’d leave me.”

Tobin follows her in, but it doesn’t feel the same.

\- 

Alex is immediately in trouble, and Tobin, bewildered, tries to go after her but is corralled by Shannon. As her mentor, or at least her past mentor, she's the one Tobin gets to talk to when there's trouble. There's never been trouble for her before. She thinks maybe that's part of what made her leave in the first place.

"Where were you? Are you okay?"

"I'm okay. I'm just tired I guess. And dehydrated a little."

She gets a glass of water before she's prompted to talk again, and by the time she's sitting in the living room she's already noticed that there doesn't seem to be anyone on shift. It's still too early in the night for it to be this quiet, and she thinks about asking before she remembers she already has too many questions to answer herself.

"What happened?"

Tobin swallows, sitting on her hands. She knows that if there's anyone who's only going to give her the necessary punishment and not more, it'll be Shannon, but what Alex said is still lurking in the back of her mind so she's reluctant to talk about it. Shannon sighs a little, reaching out to touch Tobin's knee.

"Listen, you're not in trouble unless you killed someone. Things are too crazy right now for you to get seriously punished."

"I tried to stop a burglary I thought I was hearing but when I got in the house it turned out I was wrong and it wasn't a burglary and so I got arrested for trespassing and Alex bailed me out."

She blurts it out all at once and it takes Shannon some time to get it. When she does she heaves a sigh, caught somewhere between exasperation and relief, and reaches over to pull Tobin into a heartfelt, if awkward, hug. 

"I don't want Alex to get in trouble," Tobin murmurs into Shannon's shoulder. It's her primary concern now that she's home, and now that they're apart. Shannon knows that's the case, but she also knows she can't guarantee Alex immunity. Even if Alex left a note she was still missing for four hours, and a panicked, worried Abby is not a merciful one by any means. She's heavyhanded- sometimes literally- in everything she does, and protecting Alex is no exception.

-

Abby might yell a little, and Alex might cry a little, but they work it out in the end and Alex doesn't end up really getting any kind of formal punishment because Abby can't bring herself to give it. Alex went after Tobin for the same reason Abby knows she'd have gone after Sarah if the situation called for it- they ove each other, even if she's not sure that they see it yet- so punishing Alex would make her a hypocrite, and she's already enough of a hypocrite in terms of her relationship with Hope that she just hugs Alex and lets her go.

Hope finds her in the kitchen and gives her a heavy look, and as much as Abby would like to think she's a good enough person not to wander into the empty guest suite three minutes later expecting Hope to be there, the emotionally draining past two days have left her restless and needing an outlet. That's all it is, which is _why_ she feels so guilty when Hope's hand is down the front of her jeans and she's working at the front clasp of Hope's bra again. She doesn't want to think about the fact that Kelley's near-death was her fault, but Hope's proximity brings it back- and as much as she'd like to blame Hope for choosing her in that moment, she knows it's her fault for creating the situation in the first place.

So maybe both of them leave the room a little worse for the wear, sporting (mostly) tastefully hidden scratches or tender spots that'll be bruises in the morning. And maybe they both regret it.

But Kelley's not any better for any of it.

-

Kelley can tell when the hand is gone and when it's there. She wants to be able to squeeze it back but it's as if there's something stopping her brain from actually 'making' her hand do what she wants it to do; for a moment she's consumed with panic that she's paralyzed but dead seems more likely. But if she were dead, Lauren wouldn't be trying to heal her, still, and if she's paralyzed then Lauren can probably fix it.

She's never been sure if she believed in God, but now she's wishing she had something to fall back on, some sort of assurance that it'll turn out okay in the end. 

She wonders if Tobin will pray for her.

-

In the end it's Shannon that tells Tobin about Kelley, not Alex. 

Alex stays in the shower too long and Tobin settles with her back on the floor and her feet on the bed, letting the blood rush down to her head. Tobin thinks about Kelley, tries to understand how something like this hadn't happened sooner, wants to know why it had to be her. She has too many questions and nobody to ask that will answer her, so she works hard to empty her mind and pray.

She doesn't ask questions of Him, she just asks for Kelley's protection.She asks of Him that Kelley lives, because Kelley is needed by so many, and loved by so many. She asks for the strength and the serenity to overcome her urge to make herself a hero, and asks forgiveness for the selfishness of her act of running away.

Alex crawls into the bed that Tobin's feet are on, but she doesn't say anything, she just rolls onto her side and curls up in a fetal position.

"I have three hours until I have to take Lauren's shift, healing," she trails off, but Tobin knows what she means. She sits up, craning until she can see that Alex is fighting tears.

Tobin hasn’t been there for the aftermath. The quiet is even more alien to her than to Alex and she hasn’t seen Kelley’s stillness and Lauren’s dedication.

Alex hates her for it a little bit.

“I was tired of being useless.”

“You’re not.”

Tobin clambers onto the bed, and Alex sits up, trying to decide if Tobin's smiling or grimacing.

“I am. I can’t go anywhere near where anything important happens, I can’t help anyone, and I can never tell if-” her voice cracks and she knows that Alex hears it. For a second she breathes, trying to swallow back tears that she knows won’t come anyway. She’s never been able to cry for herself; it’s selfish.

“If people actually want to be near me or if they just want the break.”

Alex is speechless for a second, mostly at the fact that she’s never considered that angle before. But isn’t it true? Isn’t Tobin their universal calming influence? She’s always thought of her own power as a curse more than a blessing, and she knows that Abby feels something of the same way, but this is a new level of insecurity that she’s not sure how to erase.

But it’s Tobin. And she can’t articulate her love for Tobin; she can’t even think about putting into words the things this girl has done for her and for everyone else. Instead of trying, she reaches for Tobin’s hand and presses their fingertips together, like Tobin used to back when the nightmares could still catch her, and that’s when she sees the tears streak down Tobin’s cheeks.

“I can’t even go see her. Kelley, I mean. If I do then Lauren can’t heal her and she’ll die.”

“Promise me you won’t go out by yourself again,” Alex says, because thinking about Kelley still hurts, even if, as Lauren has reminded them again and again, ‘the worst is already past’. There’s a moment of freefall where Tobin doesn’t say anything, just cries, and then she turns and folds herself into Alex’s arms, hands against her chest, and cries a little more.

Alex struggles for the words until Tobin is gasping into her neck and shaking apart into pieces that nobody else will know to put back together.

“You’re not useless, you’re- you make a bigger difference than anyone else I know, anyone else I’ve ever met.” 

Tobin shakes her head.

“I mean it, Tobin. You made me good. You made me want to _be_ good. You made me want to stop hiding from myself, and I know that’s not just me. If it weren’t for you this whole place would have gone crazy ages ago.” 

Tobin’s quieter, now, like maybe she’s listening or hearing something, so Alex doesn’t try to stop herself from telling it all.

“You remind us what it’s like to be normal people. And you remind us that it’s not the powers that make us heroes.”

Tobin’s fingers curl against the collar of Alex’s t-shirt, but her shoulders stop shaking after a few moments of great effort.

She doesn’t know if it’s true. She wants it to be true, but she also knows better. There’s nothing but good in Alex Morgan, and she’d be selfish for taking credit for that. She’s been selfish enough tonight and she has a choice to make between stopping herself from taking any more on her behalf or taking all she can tonight and feeling the guilt for the forseeable future.

She chooses the middle ground and tilts her head up so that Alex slants their lips together and she can lose herself in the sweetness of words without having them concrete in her mind. 

“I wasn’t trying to leave you,” she says finally, and Alex sighs, pressing their foreheads together.

“I know. I shouldn’t have said that, I was just trying to get a reaction out of you.”

“But it’s how you felt.”

This time it’s Alex’s breath that catches, and Tobin wonders how two such broken people could possibly make any kind of whole. It is whole, though, the way their hips fit together; the way Alex surrounds her. 

“I thought we were going to lose Kelley and then you went missing.”

“I’m not going to leave you like that. I can’t if I never go anywhere dangerous.”

They breathe together for almost thirty seconds before Alex cups Tobin’s face in her hands and presses a kiss to Tobin’s forehead.

“I’m not asking you not to go anywhere dangerous. I’m just asking you to take me with you next time.”

-

"When's she going to wake up?"

Lauren clears her throat but doesn't answer right away, lifting Kelley's shirt and peeling back the bandage to get a better angle. Hope looks away, wincing, holding Kelley's hand between both of hers.

"I don't know. Soon, I hope. She's mostly healed, believe it or not."

"How can you tell?"

There's a moment of loaded silence, and when Hope looks back at Lauren she's expecting animosity but somehow only gets what seems like endless patience.

"I don't ask you how your power works, right? Because we can't explain it. God gave me the gift to heal, and I can tell when my job is done."

Hope nods, dropping her eyes because it's the most submissive thing she knows to do. Kelley seems sort of peacefully focused now; the look of pain that plagued her the first two days is gone and her face is lineless again. A strand of hair has fallen into her face because she's taken to twisting and turning more as her strength starts to come back. Without really thinking about it Hope reaches out and tucks it back.

"So she'll be okay?"

It's a vulnerability thing. It's something she never wanted to show to anyone again, because the last time she did she thought she'd never recover, but she can't help herself. Something about Kelley _makes_ her vulnerable, makes her care even though she doesn't particularly want to. 

Lauren's smiling and it's clear just from her voice. If her hands weren't busy healing she knows she would have reached out to touch Hope, and somehow that doesn't surprise her anymore. Hope's more than she wants people to think she is. Underneath whatever mask she wants them to see there's a real woman underneath who needs the same things as anyone else- love, and companionship, and understanding.

"She'll be okay."

-

The hurt starts to wane as time goes by. She’s not sure how much of it. She knows she hasn’t been conscious the whole time. She knows that the hands on her stomach have changed more than once, maybe four times. She’s been given water. The first time she almost choked on it, but she’s learned to welcome the warning of a bottle lip to her own. Sometimes there’s another hand and it’s holding hers. She doesn’t know whose it is- she thinks it’s probably Alex’s hand- and she can’t open her eyes to look, at first because she literally can’t, and later because she’s afraid that if she does she’ll puke everywhere, because the hurt has given way to queasiness.

Now, the beat of her heart isn’t a constant hurt. It’s a dull throb, and a sharp pain once every what feels like two or three minutes. She feels sure that she can open her eyes if she tries to. She waits for the lip of the bottle to do it.

It’s Amy giving her water, and Lauren’s hands on her stomach; they both look surprised but neither of them speaks and Kelley takes the water gratefully before she tries to speak.

“How long has it been?”

Her voice comes out rougher and deeper than it should, and it grates against her throat. Amy caps the bottle.

“Three days. You were in and out.”

She nods. It makes her head throb. Lauren lifts her hands and Kelley flexes her own, remembering again the only thing she’s really been able to think about other than not dying: “Is Hope okay?”

She adds, “and Abby,” as an afterthought and the way Lauren almost smiles tells her that her secret isn’t as secret as she’d like it to be. Lauren leaves it, though, and Kelley is grateful for that more than anything else.

“They’re fine. Worried about you.”

“Hope especially,” Amy adds, dropping her voice almost to a whisper. 

“She was in here every day. She literally sat at your bedside until Christie told her to leave.”

Kelley's heart jumps into her throat, but she doesn't say anything; doesn't dare to smile. Hope is still an outsider here, and whatever Kelley feels for her is taboo- she's not going to leave it out in the open, even if it feels like Cheney already knows. 

"God," she laughs, and the other girls feel the tension drain right out of the room, "I am starving."

-

The bank is surrounded by police cars, and neither Jill nor Barnie want to risk getting caught. Even with their hoods up it'd only be a matter of time before someone got a picture of their face, or at least a memorable look, and they can't let that happen if they're going to stay uncompromised. Still, the cops are just _waiting_ , just aiming their snipers at the full-length windows, and inside the two burglars are holding men and women hostage. One is injured, and Jill hikes her hood up higher, restless.

"She'll bleed out," she observes, monotone. Barnie knows what she's asking and she wavers on it for a moment, not out of concern for her own safety but for her friend and partner's.

"If we go in they'll have a clear shot at us, too."

"So we'll have to trust they can tell we're the good guys."

They go around the back. The window for the drive through is high enough that Jill has to get on Barnie's shoulders to reach it, but she does, wrapping her hoodie around her wrist and punching through it so that they can get in. The alarm's already going off, and somehow- out of good luck, probably- the guys in the front of the store don't hear the shatter of glass.

"I'm gonna go for the guy closest to the victim," Jill murmurs, "you go for the other one."

She starts to move but Barnie grabs her by the wrist and keeps her still for a moment, breathing but barely. This could be- by all means probably _might_ be- the last time they're alone together, if one of them dies. They're outgunned and hopelessly outnumbered and both know that the cops will not hesitate to shoot them. The chances of them both making it out of this are slim, and they're acutely aware of it; Jill doesn't want to dwell on it but Barnie squeezes her hand and says "be safe" like it's even an option before she lets go.

Barnie hits the smaller of the two men so hard that they actually fly forward two feet before they hit the ground. His gun goes clattering off but she summons it to her hand and flicks off the safety; she has the barrel against his chest before the police even fire. They're firing at Jill- she knows because when she looks up she can see the struggle, or at least what looks like a struggle until she realizes that Jill is moving the rug under the guy's feet and reaching for his gun.

She draws her hand back with a hiss and Barnie looks up again in time to see that the gun's been shot out of the robber's hand; while he howls at the wound Jill manages to kick his feet out from under him. Barnie grabs hers by the collar of his jacket and drags him over. She only needs a look to tell Jill what she needs to, that she can manage both of them, and it's permission that Jill takes so that she can carefully lift the wounded hostage into her arms and step through the rubbled frame of what was once a window.

The police swarm the area and Barnie drops the gun so that she can readjust her hood, letting the robbers up fast enough that the cops have too much to deal with to notice her slip out the back. She knows Jill will find a way out, too, and she stops about three blocks away so that they can meet back up.

It takes a while for Jill to get out of there, because people keep trying to stop her. When she rounds the corner she sees Barnie bouncing on her toes, and they both break into grins long before they're close enough to hug.

"That was stupid crazy," Jill says, laughing into Barnie's shoulder, "I can't believe you were holding /both/ of them down."

"Just another day at the office."

-

“Did anything interesting happen while I was asleep?”

Kelley says ‘asleep’ because she’s not sure what to call it; Alex wants to call it ‘comatose’ but she knows better than to dampen the mood. Tobin’s hand finds hers under the table and their fingers twist together. Kelley can tell that things are different- not just with Tobin and Alex- and it frustrates her to think of the things she might have missed. 

“I got tired of being left out of all the fun so I robbed a house,” Tobin jokes, and Alex bumps her with one shoulder, smiling despite herself. 

“I was trying to stop what sounded like a robbery, but it wasn’t actually a robbery, so I ended up...accidentally breaking and entering. And going to jail.”

Kelley drops her spoon.

“You got arrested?”

“Yeah. Alex had to come bail me out. I’m a real live criminal now.”

“You gotta up your badassery,” Kelley says, looking at Alex, “between Tobin going to jail and me getting shot in the stomach you have a lot to catch up with.”

She means for it to be funny, but it’s not. Alex remembers too well how close Kelley was to dying, and even if Tobin doesn’t she’s seen Alex cry about it and can’t laugh at her expense. There’s a moment of awkward silence before Hope wanders into the kitchen, Abby a second behind, and something about their proximity and the way Abby’s hair is mussed up makes Kelley’s stomach drop.

Hope veers off right to Kelley and hugs her, surprising everyone but herself especially. It’s not a real hug- it’s from behind, and the chair is in the way, but Hope wraps her arms around Kelley’s shoulders and squeezes gently. Kelley tilts her head to look when Hope pulls back and Abby rattles some dishes in the sink because she feels like if she goes over to Kelley she’s going to apologize for almost getting them killed and she doesn’t want to ruin the moment.

Hope is flustered, but there’s no good way to deflect the way Kelley’s looking at her, so she opts for honesty, a hand on one hip. 

“I’m glad you’re okay.”

She doesn’t say anything else. Kelley doesn’t answer, just looks at her, so she smiles and goes to the fridge for her yogurt. Abby’s blocking the door and Hope not-quite-gently pushes her out of the way, nearly spilling Abby’s bowl of Cheerios. 

“You look good,” Abby says, nodding at Kelley, who barks out a nervous laugh. Alex almost laughs, too, strictly at how awkward it is. Tobin’s redirected her attention to her toast, but Kelley wants to watch to see if Hope sticks around (she doesn’t).

Abby doesn’t stick around, either. Christie and Shannon are out on the porch, so when it appears that she’s not going to get any more out of Kelley she meanders out to join them. 

Kelley immediately leans over the table, tapping her hand until she has Tobin and Alex’s attention: “Are they a thing?” 

Tobin shrugs; she hasn’t been paying close enough attention. Alex starts peeling her orange, deciding the best way to do this is to avoid eye contact.

"They're hooking up, I think."

Tobin blinks- this is news to her- and Kelley isn't sure if she's disgusted or disbelieving.

"They don't even _like_ each other."

"Sometimes the sex is better that way," Tobin jokes, but Alex glares at her, purely because she knows that's not going to help Kelley at all. Kelley takes it alright, though, because she doesn't want them to know yet that the idea of Abby and Hope- of _anyone_ and Hope- makes her stomach turn. The best thing she can think to do is turn it around on them, and that's what she does, kicking Tobin's knee under the table.

"What would _you_ know about sex? Have you two even done it yet?"

Alex blushes furiously and is about to say that they were too busy worrying about Kelley almost dying to do much, but Tobin surprises her by answering with a grin that she knows is trouble: "Second base, yo."

"Tobin!"

She's laughing so hard that Kelley's high five almost completely misses her hand, and Alex is mortified but can't bother to be actually angry at them, because it's been too long since they've laughed together like this and she had, at least for a while, wondered if they _ever_ would again. 

Saving Kelley's life had been especially hard knowing how close she had been to disappearing from it.

Kelley nudges Alex's plate with her spoon, trying to win back some grudging affection.

"Thanks for holding my hand, by the way. That was you, wasn't it?"

Tobin falls silent (it couldn't have been her and they all know it but she doesn't want to think about it anyway), and Alex shakes her head, dropping her gaze to her half-finished grapefruit.

"Nah. Hope. I was taking shifts with Chen so she could sleep."

"You were healing me?"

Alex shrugs a little, and Tobin excuses herself quietly, realizing they need the space alone. Kelley takes Tobin's seat, leaning into Alex's shoulder, intrigued and grateful but mostly kind of shocked. Alex doesn't like using anyone's powers. Her first line of defense or offense in any situation is physical self-defense, and her second is superstrength because Abby's power is the one she knows best. As far as Kelley knows, Alex has never used Lauren's power before.

"It wasn't that bad," Alex says, but she's lying, and her voice breaks when she says it because she's remembering the veins in Kelley's eyelids, the translucence of her skin, the weak rise and fall of her chest. Kelley reaches for Alex, and Alex almost turns away but instead she presses her cheek to Kelley's and tries not to cry.

"You almost died and I never even apologized," Alex croaks. Three days ago Kelley would have snatched that apology right up, but now it doesn't matter anymore. Tobin and Alex are together. In a way she supposes they've kind of always been, at least more than Kelley would want to be with either of them. It's how it is. She's just grateful to be alive, and especially grateful that they're her friends. Her family.

"I love you. I don't care who's touching your boobs."

Now Alex _is_ crying a little, but she's also laughing, and it's only ever Kelley that could do that to her. They're still getting out the things that matter, the apology, and the statement of love. Tobin's waiting further back in the kitchen, trying to make herself look busy, and when Kelley and Alex are done hugging they find her trying to decide what's a potato masher and what's a spatula.

-

Abby keeps seeing them.

She wonders if she's only noticing because she's expecting to, or whether anyone else sees them, but she never brings it up because there's a part of her that's afraid they're not there are all. There are figures- one, sometimes two- always hovering around the places they find trouble. A mugging, a shooting, a hostage situation, a fire, a collapsed roof, a car accident, and always someone watching.

They don't scare her.

-

Kelley's prod stays with Tobin longer than she means for it to. It was a joke, but she's not sure how seriously to take it. Is it weird that the level of intimacy she's reached with Alex stops over her bra? Does Alex want more? Is she slacking? She doesn't want to ask, because she feels as though that would make things awkward, but she has to know. She figures if she tries to go a little further and Alex stops her somewhere, she knows that's where she needs to stop.

It seems weird that she's not prepared to go all the way, but she's _not_. Not with Alex, not yet. She's not sure what she's waiting for but she's waiting for something.

When Kelley leaves their room that night Tobin hovers over Alex's body, working up the courage to start something. For the first time in their relationship Alex hooks her ankle behind Tobin's knee and flips them. Tobin grins into the kiss that Alex offers, sliding her hands along Alex's lower back but not daring to go lower than that. 

"You can touch me," Alex mutters against her lips, "You're allowed."

It sounds like a request, so Tobin lets her hands wander lower, over Alex's backside even though her face burns. Alex kisses her neck, the hand that's not holding her up sliding under the hem of Tobin's t-shirt where it's already been pushed up. It had taken Tobin two mintes to get to touching Alex over her bra, but- and it's not like this is _surprising_ , really- Alex gets to the point immediately.

Tobin doesn't know what to do with herself, particularly with her hands, one of which cups Alex's shoulder under her shirt, the other rests on her lower back. She rests her lips against Alex'sear, but she's not used to being the one touched. 

Alex takes the discomfort away immediately. Tobin doesn't have time to think about what she _should_ be doing when Alex's hand slides down her stomach and into her sweatpants.Instead of thinking about it she digs her fingers into Alex's shoulders and arches up off the mattress and makes the kind of sound that would embarrass her into running away if she had the presence of mind to notice it.

"Alex-"

"It's okay."

Alex can feel Tobin tense under her, but somehow she knows this isn't a request to stop. It's that Tobin wants to make sure this is what they both want, and even if Alex hasn't done this before she's willing to try. She's been on the other side enough times to know what works and what doesn't.

"It's okay. I want to. We don't have to, we can just-"

She hits the hem of Tobin's underwear and Tobin sighs and the words disappear. 

-

So maybe they don't actually _do it_. But they do something, or anyway Alex does, and when they sit with Kelley at breakfast the next morning it's obvious that something's different. 

Kelley doesn't ask, she just laughs and lifts Tobin's hand for a high five.

-

Megan catches sight of the girl lurking in a doorway before anything even happens. For a second she considers the situation, trying to decide if the girl might be suspicious. The kind of person who would loiter in a bad area like this past midnight isn't usually a decently-dressed girl in her mid-twenties, but she also doesn't look like a dealer or a hawker. The commotion's happening on the roof, just like A-Rod told her it was, so she swings up onto the fire escape and clambers to the top of the building without looking back. 

The girl in the doorway may not be able to see someone who's invisible, but she knows someone's bound to show up and she's vigilant- that's why she doesn't dismiss the rattle of the fire escape as the product of a strong wind. Instead she follows what she assumes is someone's trajectory, and then follows that path, as slowly and as quietly as she can. 

It's domestic abuse. Megan knows that the second she hops onto the roof and sees them- a man and a woman and a gun- and on instinct she ducks to the ground, even though they can't see her. She doesn't have much time. They're yelling in another language, Italian or French maybe, something Romantic, but Megan can see the guy's finger hover over the safety and she immediately makes to round behind him. The roof is gravel, so she has move both quickly and lightly or they'll hear her and the element of surprise will be gone. 

Thing is, besides A-Rod, she's the most agile person in the group, so she gets behind him and slaps the gun out of his hand without an issue. Stunned, he turns around to face her, and she makes herself visible- mask and all- just to see the look on his face. 

"Violence is never the answer," she says, feeling like a cheap cartoon character, and then she goes invisible again and heads for the fire escape. 

But she's not alone. 

The girl from the doorway is there, crouching a floor down, and Megan drops the entire story just to pin her to the metal grating and snarl at her. 

"If you're looking for trouble," she says, fisting a hand into the girl's heavy jacket, "you've come to the right place."

"I wasn't looking for trouble," Ashlyn says, grinning, and Megan's anger rises immeasurably when she sees that her intimidation tactics are having no effect, "I was looking for you."

Megan lets go of her and Ashlyn stands, rolling her shoulders, taking in the whole ensemble and badly hiding her smirk at the spandex. 

"I don't know who you think you are, but you're barking up the wrong tree. Beat it while I'll still let you."

From above her Megan hears a sound like the first faint rolling of thunder, and then there's a shadow over her and a voice out of nowhere- "Ashlyn, seriously? After I told you no?"

Megan looks up and gasps aloud, backing into the staircase. Crouched on the roof a story above her is a literal angel- a girl with wings, the streetlights illuminating her face and her bemused expression. 

"Sorry," Ali says, on Ashlyn's behalf, "we'll just go."

"No we won't," Ashlyn bites out, crossing her arms, and then turning to Megan, "Trust me. You need us."

Megan's still openmouthed, but she's trying to keep up with these strangers, so she looks at both of them before she swallows and answers, straightening her shoulders. 

"I'm not at liberty to make that decision."

Christ, she sounds like a fucking Batman cartoon.

-

The one person at liberty to make 'that decision' is asleep when they get back. Megan's shift is just her and A-Rod and Lori, and Lori's there to open the door when Megan leads the two girls to headquarters, her confusion apparent. She doesn't ask questions, though, because she _knows_ all the answers. She just can't quite understand them.

"Don't break anything," Megan mutters when she shows Ashlyn and Ali into the guest suite. One of the bedspreads is suspiciously ruffled but she doesn't have time to worry about it. 

"We're not animals," Ashlyn jokes, and Ali hits her with one of their shared duffel bags. Megan gives them one last suspicious glare before she slinks back into the hallway and closes the door behind her.

"If you break something," Ali says, under her breath, dropping the duffel and grabbing Ashlyn by the jacket, "I will _pluck_ you."

-

“I don’t believe this,” Hope mutters, but everyone can hear her. That’s the point, actually, and Carli jabs her in the ribs even though she’s not sure she believes it either.

Ali had expected this; Ashlyn hadn’t. Megan sighs, turning to Abby and Christie, palms out in a gesture of helplessness. 

“I saw what I saw, okay? I don’t know why they’re being so shy about it now.”

Ashlyn huffs a little, glancing at Ali, who’s already looking at her. It’s been at least a few months since either of them has flown in broad daylight, for lack of somewhere safe to do it, and the lingering fear of discovery makes them both a little apprehensive. Ashlyn can practically hear the unspoken in her mind just from the look Ali gives her- _Are we sure we can trust them?_

“This is a safe place,” Christie says, as if on cue, and Abby nods like the good little soldier she is.

“We can’t help you- we can’t decide if we can use your help- unless you show us what you can do.”

“We have wings,” Ashlyn says, as if that’s all the answer they need. “What do you _think_ we can do?”

“Please just show them,” Megan says, mostly under her breath. Ashlyn crosses her arms and turns back to Ali, who gives her nothing to work with, and then she shrugs.

“Ali’s are prettier.”

The look she gets in return for that tells her just how certainly she’s going to pay for that later. It’s not true, anyway, as far as Ali’s concerned, and Ashlyn knows it, so when Ali shrugs out of her jacket and balls it up she throws it right at Ashlyn’s chest.

There’s no pomp and circumstance about it because Ali doesn’t want any. The tank top she was wearing under the jacket is a racerback, exposing her shoulderblades just enough so that her wings don’t have to be trapped beneath it; the circle of women takes a collective step back and in one fluid movement she crouches and unfurls. 

As far as Ashlyn’s concerned, there’s no contest. 

Ali’s wings are longer than hers by a few inches, even though Ali’s shorter- probably close to 13 feet like this, fully extended. In some twist of fate her wings mirror her hair color- black at first glance, but infinitely more complex than they appear to be. The months they’ve spent flying only at night have made Ashlyn forget the way the light plays off each feather, how the ones nearer to Ali’s shoulders tint a reddish color when the sun hits them just right.

It’s stunning. _Ali’s_ stunning. Once it appears that nobody’s going to say anything, Ali crouches a little lower and Ashlyn sticks an arm out to push Megan back a few more feet a split second before Ali lifts into the air. Neither of them have mastered going directly upwards yet, if that’s even possible on their scale, but Ali’s pretty close and doesn’t get within a foot of anyone before she’s clear past their heads.

Ali’s better at the whole hovering thing, probably because of the Corvid DNA that Ashlyn doesn’t have, but she doesn’t do it for long, just long enough to give Ashlyn a look that forces her to shed her own jacket or risk suffering the consequences of being a jerk about this whole debacle. 

Ashlyn hands Megan both jackets and rolls her shoulders.

“You’re gonna want to stand back a little further.”

It’s totally unneccessary for her to cut so close to the top of Hope’s head, but her under-the-breath remark from earlier isn’t forgotten yet and she enjoys a little too much the look of surprise and terror when her wingtip just brushes the top of Hope’s hair. Abby snickers a little, immediately quieted by the sigh of Ashlyn's wings as they pull her into the air. With a few rapid beats she’s up to Ali’s height, and then higher, climbing into the sky like she hasn’t done for so long she can’t remember the last time she did.

She climbs, just not high enough to clear the top of the building before she cuts and twists and dives. Ali sees her coming and flits out of the way just in time, Ashlyn swoops and there's a collective gasp under her that gives her a thrill she knows she shouldn't get. Ali grabs her ankle and drags her down.

Megan's pretty sure _nobody's_ eyebrows have ever raised as far as Christie's. Ashlyn dusts herself off, helping Ali to her feet even after she was the one to force them to the ground, and she holds that hand in hers when she faces their captain.

"So, do we make the cut?"

"You get a trial run."

-

Kelley is completely entranced.

Everyone is, but Kelley especially, and she's the one to pay the most attention afterwards. It's easier to think about Ashlyn and Ali than it is to think about Abby and Hope, or about Tobin and Alex, even now. They don't get mentors and Kelley has to wonder why that is. When she mentions it to Alex, all she gets is a shrug in return.

"Christie knows what she's doing."

"I'm not questioning her judgement, I'm just curious. Aren't you curious? Even a little bit?"

And of course the answer is yes, but nobody is curious like Kelley is curious.

-

There’s roadkill that night, when Ali and Ashlyn join the crew for their monthly dinner out.

Christie always has them pretend they're some soccer league from out of town when they’re out like this, to avoid suspicion and confusion, so they’re all in jogging outfits and the new lavender sweatjacket is harsh against Ali’s wings. Ashlyn’s a few steps ahead of her, head bent toward Alex, who’s speaking rapidly. Tobin and Lauren are on Ali’s left, and Carli and Hope are on her right, and when they spot the roadkill Ali’s step falters.

There are crows around it. They’re driven out to the suburbs, so that’s not strange, but she can swear that they turn and look right at her and everything in her wishes she’d just stayed home. “They recognize you,” Carli says, trying to make a joke, but only Hope laughs, and only until she sees how Ali drops her eyes to the sidewalk and walks a little faster.

“They’re crows,” Ali mutters, like it makes a difference.

Carli watches, a little taken aback, until Ali catches up with the front of the group, and then, trying to save face, she turns to Hope: “What is _she_ , then?”

Ashlyn’s on them in seconds, her demeanor as calm as ever but something fiercely protective about the way she looks at them. 

“She’s a person,” she says, hands deep in her pockets, and Alex listens for the sarcasm she thinks ought to be there, but there is none. This is the first time any of them have heard Ashlyn be serious, and later it won’t surprise any of them that it involved Ali. 

“If you’re asking about the avian DNA, though, she’s Corvid. White-necked raven.”

Carli’s not sure what she’s supposed to say to that, so she just nods, wanting to apologize but too uncomfortable to actually do it. Hope comes to her rescue without really meaning to, her attention caught.

“What about you? Gotta be some kind of falcon or something, right?”

Ashlyn shakes her head, and Hope doesn’t miss it when she glances forward at Ali before she answers. 

“Close, but not quite. Crested Goshawk. Kind of dumb and mean.”

"You don't seem dumb _or_ mean," Alex offers, and she's just trying to be nice, but Ashlyn construes it differently and smirks at her. She might even give Alex an up-and-down before her answer gets cut off by an arm snaking around Alex's waist. It's Tobin, who's quietly staking her claim, and Ashlyn immediately backs off, surprised but not willing to challenge it.

Kelley bumps Ashlyn's elbow with hers, completely missing the exchange. 

"So are you guys sisters? Like, because you're both bird mutants or whatever?"

Ashlyn laughs, scratching the back of her neck.

"No. Definitely not related."

-

Hope spends most of dinner feeling vaguely threatened.

It had been great to neutralize the threat of Abby by sleeping with her. Once you've seen someone naked and panting under you it's kind of difficult to be worried that they might want to kill you in your sleep. Alex hasn't been a problem since Kelley's injury, and she's _especially_ not a problem when Tobin's around, but something about Ashlyn- the dimple, the instant charm, the fact that everyone has immediately taken to her- makes her bristle.

Maybe it has a little bit to do with the fact that Kelley is pressed between Ashlyn and HAO, alternating between talking animatedly and listening with rapt attention, but if it _is_ that, it's only _a little bit_ that. It's mostly everything else.

Carli puts it all into words when the food is ordered and she leans over to ask, "Do you think they'll stay?"

"I don't know how useful they'll be," Hope answers, but inside she's hoping they're not as valuable as they look.

-

It turns out that an opportunity presents itself on the way back to headquarters, as opportunities have a way of following Christie around. At least, that's what it feels like when they notice the kid on the edge of the bridge, who can't be older than sixteen. They don't deal with suicide attempts often- in fact, Christie can only remember two in the past ten years that they've bothered to get involved with- but the police either haven't been called or aren't there yet, and she pulls the van over and turns to Ashlyn and Ali. Hope and Carli are the other two in this particular van, and neither of them even think for a heartbeat that this is meant for them.

"Do your thing."

"What's our thing?"

"Save the kid. Or try to."

They don't have to talk about it to decide that Ali's the one who's going to do the convincing. Ashlyn waits for a lull in traffic and sprints across five lanes without even so much as a twitch, and Christie's not sure whether she's impressed or vaguely disappointed. She makes a note of Ashlyn's recklessness and watches Ali slip out of her jacket and climb over the railing.

-

"Hi."

"Please don't try to stop me."

His voice is high; Ali thinks he hasn't hit puberty all the way yet. She sits back on the railing a few feet from him and clears her throat.

"You don't have to do this tonight. You could put it off."

"I already put it off a lot."

"Why?"

"Because I'm lonely and sad and angry. Why the fuck else does anyone ever commit suicide?"

Ali shakes her head, scooting a little closer. Under her second jacket, if he looked, he'd be able to see the outline of her wings, folded close and tight to her body. He's not looking yet, but that's okay. She has a plan. Ashlyn's already waiting under the bridge, hovering and circling, in case he jumps and she has to catch him.

"I meant, why'd you put it off? If you want to do it so bad."

"You're making me want to do it more."

"No I'm not, or you'd do it. You know what I mean? There's a reason you're here _now_ , instead of a week ago. Or even a minute ago. Or even a second ago. There's something that's keeping you from jumping, right this very instant. So what is it?"

He swallows and she watches his jaw work as he tries for an answer. She knows- or at least she hopes- that the answer is something worth living for, because some part of her really believes that _everyone_ has something worth living for. Especially someone like this, someone who's young enough to become anything he wants.

It has to be his idea, living. Or this will only be a temporary fix.

"I dunno."

"Come on," she urges, moving even closer, "there's got to be something. You can't hate everything. Name something you like."

"My dog, I guess. Whatever. Stop distracting me, I swear I'll do it."

"Are you an animal person?"

He blows air over his lips, moving his foot forward toward the edge of the bridge, and Ali's heart jumps even though she knows Ashlyn will be waiting if he does it. The thing is, if he jumps- even if he lives through it- she'll have failed.

"When you live in the city you only see dogs and pigeons."

"I like pigeons," she says, close enough now that she can start to unzip her jacket. He spares her a glance, brows furrowed, and she's not sure what he's thinking but the second the jacket is off he's not thinking it anymore.

She extends her wings, slowly, carefully, one behind his back, and for a moment he's so shocked that she's afraid he's just going to fall.

"Is this some kind of joke?"

"No. You can touch, if you want."

He does, a shaking hand pressing against the feathers nearest her shoulders.

"What's your name?"

"Josh."

"Go home and feed your dog, Josh. And then try and write down a list of reasons you haven't committed suicide yet, and keep it in your pocket wherever you go. Can you do that?"

"Are you real?"

"Promise me, Josh." 

Ashlyn swoops in next to him on the other side, and he almost startles so hard that he lurches over the edge, but she grabs him by the arm and holds him steady even as Ali gives her a pointed look.

"I'd do what she says."

There's a long moment of silence where Josh looks out at the water under them and Ashlyn's wing brushes Ali behind his back. He seems like he's focusing, but his toes still hang over the edge, and Ali doesn't feel as safe now that Ashlyn's there next to her instead of feet below willing to catch him. It makes sense, though. It's not the same if he doesn't realize he can really do it. Once he's been here, once he's been here and _back_ , she knows he won't try again.

"I'm afraid of heights," he says, finally, so quietly that the wind almost masks it, "I need help getting back over the rail."

-

"Guardian fucking angels."

It's under her breath, but Hope knows that Carli hears it.

They're there to stay.

-

By the time Ashlyn leaves the shower, toweling her hair, Ali’s already got her nose in a book.

“Because of its black plumage, croaking call, and diet of carrion, the raven has long been considered a bird of ill omen and of interest to creators of myths and legends.”

Yeah, ill omen. She’s read that before, but it never stops packing a punch. Sometimes- or most of the time- she feels like just that, like trouble follows her. And just like humans have studied ravens for thousands of years, she’s an object of interest, something to be peered at through magnifying lenses under harsh fluorescent light. An oddity. A disaster. Something whose behavior can be modified by science, if ‘science’ is synonymous with torture. What they had found, she remembers, is that her reactions to torture aren’t like the reactions of normal people.

Maybe because she’d been a kid.

“Give it a rest, Einstein,” Ashlyn says, flopping onto the bed next to her, and Ali snaps the book closed with a guilty sigh. Before the book actually closes, though, Ashlyn snaps her hand forward to catch it with a thumb marking the page, and brings it to her own lap, where she can see what Ali’s been so focused on for the past twenty minutes.

She’s not surprised, really, but she’s a little frustrated, because she doesn’t know how to handle this. She’s known Ali for years now and she still doesn’t know why Ali only seems to see the downside to their situation, or how she manages to ignore how amazing she is- a wonder of natural science, incredibly beautiful, and a good fucking person to top it all off. Ashlyn’s the birdbrain to Ali’s smarts and she struggles with words, especially confronted with an emotional situation.

But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t try. “The trickster raven,” she reads aloud, raising an eyebrow, “always selfish, sly, conniving, and hungry.”

“Corvus albicollis,” Ali murmurs, tucking her wings in close. Ashlyn tosses the book onto the floor beside the bed and grabs at one of Ali’s wings, extending it into her own lap and letting her fingers play across the secondaries, where she knows Ali’s sensitive. 

“You’re not a fucking raven, Ali.”

“You don’t get it. There’s no negative connotation for a crested goshawk, okay?”

“That’s bullshit, farmers hate goshawks. Farmers and people who own bunnies.”

It doesn’t get the laugh she’s looking for, so she sighs and tries a different tactic. Ali’s relaxed a bit now, stretching out the other wing and leaning a little into Ashlyn’s hand, unable to resist the scratch of Ashlyn’s fingers at all the right places, as usual. She knows that Ashlyn’s trying, and she appreciates it, but it’s one of those nights where she can’t shake the hollowness from her bones. For a minute or two, she lets herself enjoy the attention, and then she sits up.

Ashlyn’s hair is still damp from the shower when Ali reaches for it, tucking strands behind Ashlyn’s ears before she leans in to kiss her.

-

"They stopped a kid from jumping off a bridge?"

Hope glares into the mirror and prays that Kelley can see it. Kelley's too busy jumping on the bed to notice, as if she's five and not in her twenties. Hope listens to the bedsprings for a moment or two before she goes back to washing her face, but she looks up again, dripping, when the noise stops.

"Oh my God, wait, did he _jump_?"

"No. He's fine."

"That is so cool. They are so cool. I wanna look up goshawks."

"Stop jumping on the bed."

Kelley hops off the bed, and Hope wanders back into the room, trying not to make eye contact. Nothing escapes her roommate, though, and Kelley grabs her by the wrist and pulls her to the bed, and Hope hates that she likes how their knees press together. This is _Kelley_. 

For her part, Kelley's not sure whether to be concerned or intrigued. She hasn't seen Hope this irritable since the mugging, probably, and she recognizes it for what it is: jealousy. The idea that Hope could be jealous of anyone, especially Ashlyn, is as funny as it is ridiculous, and Kelley grins, nudging Hope with her shoulder.

Kelley's smile starts in her eyes and as soon as Hope sees it she looks away again.

"Okay, so they're cool. But they can't bust a door down with a beam of super-bright energy-fire."

"That's not how it works," Hope says, tugging her wrist free, or trying to.

"You're cool too."

"I'm going to sleep."

-

Things wind down for a few days, and it almost feels like normalcy might set in for a long haul.

They have movie night the next weekend, and they all pile into the living room to watch. It's Dodgeball, because it was HAO's turn to pick, and of course HAO has the front row seat. Ashlyn and Ali sit in the back so that their wings don't get in the way, but partially also because Ashlyn is touchy in the dark and Ali still thinks they're subtle enough that nobody knows they're together.

Everyone knows.

Kelley sits on the ground- or, rather, on Hope's feet- next to Tobin, and Alex lies back, using Tobin's lap as a pillow. Abby thinks she's safe on the recliner until Cheney sprawls on top of her, like she's not even /there/ and the recliner is free; Megan starts throwing popcorn at the back of Jill's head only minutes into the movie she knows she's not going to watch. She can always ask Lori what the ending is, anyway.

Halfway through Alex squirms and sits up so that she can turn her head and whisper into Tobin's ear, "I love you," like she hasn't spent the last hour indecisive over whether or not to say it, and then she drops back down into Tobin's lap and Tobin sits there dumbfounded for almost three minutes before she leans down and kisses Alex's upside-down grin.

Kelley gags at Pinoe, who throws popcorn at Tobin and Alex until they're laughing, and Cheney elbows Abby and coos out an audible 'aww', and Hope doesn't even get to shush them before HAO does, violently defending the integrity of her favorite film.

Kelley, as always, has the last word.

"You guys are so gross."

 

-

They wake up to an earthquake.

It's a 8.4 magnitude, the biggest in North American history, and certainly the biggest in New York history. There's no time to talk about it, they just follow Christie wherever she decides to lead them, every one of them as quiet and as cooperative as they can be.

The subway tunnels are a mess, but in a way that’s almost a good thing- the police are too busy to try and stop them from helping, so they don’t stop. There’s a lot of panic and a lot of people trapped in subway cars and for the most part the team is extremely efficient, each contributing in their own ways to make rescue easier. Abby pries doors off of subway cars one by one and people flood out of them, some finding Lauren where she heals wrists and ribs and ankles if necessary. Amy herds people like sheep, opting to go collie because anything bigger or more exotic would just cause more panic; Shannon freezes a bridge over the tracks so that people can walk over without hurting themselves and Christie disintegrates whatever she can that’s keeping people trapped as long as she can do it without creating more of a problem.

It’s Heather who catches the water first and comes rocketing back along the tracks.

“The tunnels are gonna flood,” she says, barely out of breath, and that’s enough for Christie to call a retreat. Their area is almost entirely clear now, anyway, and if she gets the team out fast enough they won’t have time to think about the next station down. She can’t risk it, and most of the rest of them seem to grasp that concept pretty quickly.

Abby doesn’t. 

She’s the last one out and she’s halfway up the station stairs when she hears someone call for help and freezes, suddenly facing a decision of duty over compassion. Alex is the closest, and she hears it too, glancing at Abby over her shoulder and stopping once she sees that Abby has.

“We have to go,” she says, but it’s a question, and Abby shakes her head immediately, turning back and taking the stairs two at a time.

Alex follows, but she can hear things start to shift around her and knows that it’s an aftershock without a doubt in her mind. Nicole’s the one who turns in time to see the two of them disappear down the stairs, and by the time Hope catches up with her the aftershock is in full blow and things have started to fall. The panic takes over Hope’s brain, and when Nicole starts to head down the stairs she does the only thing she can possibly think to do- she grabs the other woman with one hand and strongarms her back into the street.

It takes two of them to hold Nicole back.

-

Alex feels like the world has been upended and gravity has gotten stronger somehow. She’s tripping on flat ground, trying to keep up with Abby, falling again and again and always two steps behind. Abby’s calling out for someone to tell her where they are, but now even she’s starting to doubt the cry for help. A chunk of concrete dislodges itself from a column and crashes to the ground maybe two feet from her, and before she has time to react Alex has grabbed her and started tugging her back to the stairs.

They don’t make it. Abby knows they won’t the second the rest of the column starts to collapse, and she tries to yell it but it’s too loud for Alex to hear her and she’s not positive she’s making any sound at all anyway. The ground beneath their feet lurches violently and they tumble down together, Abby onto one elbow with enough power to crack the tile under her and Alex onto her stomach, winded. 

The column falls, and the rest of the tunnel falls with it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> adjusting, or trying to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: assault, violence against women, and guns. Please please please be careful. I would hate to trigger anyone. If you need more details, feel free to contact me here or on tumblr (tobin-heath).

They move around the house like ghosts.

Tobin climbs up onto the roof and sits there with her head tilted up to the sky for hours without saying a word or acknowledging anybody that calls up to her. Nicole finds a punching bag and hits it until Christie stops her, and then she disappears for a while with Jill hot on her heels. Kelley and Lauren and A-Rod stand in front of Tobin’s perch in shifts, occasionally trying to get her down, but by the time the sun sets they’ve given up.

Hope sits on her hands and tries to decide for herself if Abby’s dead.

-

Alex screams so long that she stops being able to. There’s not much light and there are bits of concrete and metal all around her and she’s shaking and her face is wet but she’s alive, somehow, and the aftershock is over, but she can’t find Abby.

It’s probably a solid minute before she realizes the screaming isn’t going to help and she stops so abruptly she can hear the echo of Abby’s name off the walls and her own heart beat in her chest. She waits on her hands and knees until she hears something, and then she follows the sound of human groans to where she finds Abby.

“Gotta get out,” Abby mutters through gritted teeth, “tunnel’s gonna go, gotta get out.”

It’s an order, but Alex just shakes her head. Abby must have hit her head pretty hard, because she's barely conscious; she resists it when Alex reaches to touch her head where it's bleeding and Alex draws back a little, afraid to hurt Abby any worse.

And then she hears the water.

-

Taking them to the diner is Becky's idea. 

She and Amy were given Ashlyn and Ali to acclimate them, and the hotel is such a mess in the aftermath of the accident that Becky figures it's best not to let them brood over it. 

This isn't the team they were meant to see. 

They're no longer really trying to hide that they're together because the situation calls for comfort (hence the comfort food), so when they settle in a booth at the WG, Ashlyn's arm around Ali's shoulder isn't a surprise at all. Even Ali isn't surprised; if anyone should know their relationship their mentors ought to. 

(In a way most of the team already knows. They have a way of looking after each other (and, often, looking _at_ each other) that's not just a product of years spent together, the way siblings do- its something else. A long-term relationship kind of give and take and tenderness.)

It makes Becky think. 

For most of them, the team is the extent of their human contact. There's enough of them that it's hard to get sick of _everyone_ at once (except when everyone hits that part of their cycle at the same time), but there's never any romance. Friendship is invaluable, but something's _missing_ , something that Ashlyn and Ali have that most of the rest of them have to do without. 

Abby has Sarah, who they all know of but haven't actually seen (with the exception of Pearcie and Shannon), and Barnie has a girl, too, that she doesn't talk about but is usually allowed to visit once a month, and Tobin and Alex clearly had something in its beginning stages- but the rest of them are left wanting. 

Sex is different. 

Women tend to find a way to take care of that problem, even with a roommate (it's part of the reason most roommates don't take shift together). Some of them even help each other out (for the first two weeks after Megan's arrival there was always a chance of walking in on her and Abby hooking up somewhere if you weren't careful), but for those of them who are straight-and-not-adventurous, life is tough. 

This is a better conversational topic than the fact that Abby and Alex are dead. 

Ashlyn laughs when Becky says she sometimes wishes she were queer enough to sleep with a teammate. It's low and soft but it's still a laugh, and Amy laughs too, but she's really trying. She sometimes wishes she were brave enough to sleep with a teammate; queer enough isn't the problem. The thing is that nobody who really interests her has followed through, and she doesn't get out enough. 

"Well, you could always ask. Go out to a club or something."

Amy counters, reddening, "I'm not really the clubbing type. And Cap doesn't just let people go out whenever or wherever, you have to get approved."

Ashlyn pulls a face. 

"The craziest I've ever seen her let happen was Tobin and Kelley and Alex," Becky continues, without thinking, Alex's name like a phantom limb, "before Hope they'd go out probably once a week, and God knows what they got up to."

The silence after is so heavy that it forces her to think about what she said, and she pales, swallowing hard. 

They've never lost anyone before. 

Ali reaches over the table and covers Becky's hand where it rests by her glass.

"We can't ignore it."

Amy's the one to break the silence, just as Becky squeezes Ali's hand and retracts her own. 

"I mean, it's not healthy to ignore it. We all know they're gone, we just haven't gotten around to really understanding it yet."

"I don't think I _can_ understand it," Ashlyn says. They've been around for hardly two weeks and it still feels like someone blew a hole in her.

"We've just been so lucky. Ten years and we've been lucky not to lose anyone until now."

"I don't think they're dead," Ali blurts, and Ashlyn clears her throat, hoping to quiet her before she goes too far. The thing is, Becky runs with it.

"Maybe not. But then the flood- and we know there have been raids- we have to assume the worst. You might be right. They might show up again in a couple of days."

None of them finishes the thought: that they might not. The hope is easier on their stomachs. Their conversation is mercifully cut short when a tall, curly-haired brunette approaches the table, and Ali and Ashlyn are both surprised that Amy and Becky are friendly with her- "Sarah", her name tag reads. 

Becky asks if Niki is at the grill, and Sarah laughs and asks when _isn't_ Niki at the grill. 

After they order they don't speak much, and another woman shows up, wiping grease off her hands and onto her apron. Her hair is short, but not in a way that suggests it's short because she'd rather not think about it; it's styled and clean-cut and her smile is genuine. She introduces herself, offering her (still greasy) hand to shake, and tells them that she's Niki. 

"Did you hear about the tunnel collapsing? And the hero ladies that got trapped?"

They all pause but Amy. 

"In passing. What happened?"

Niki shrugs. 

"They went in to save people I guess, and the tunnel collapsed on them. The police are saying they're probably dead though. I think they're hoping the other ones will expose themselves or something."

"The police should let them grieve instead of stalking them," Ashlyn replies, a little too quickly, and Niki gives her a curious look. 

"I guess. I think you're right, I mean. The police should just leave them alone. They do a lot of good."

-

The water forces Alex into action. Abby’s weak enough that her powers are useless to Alex’s aid, so when she picks out the ladder on the other side of the tracks and decides she needs to get them up it, she knows it’ll be down to her alone. Although Alex would like to hope that the ladder leads up to the street, she’s knows better than to bank on it, and given that Abby’s coming very very slowly back into consciousness and the water’s trickling into the tunnel she’s not sure what she’s supposed to do.

“Gotta get out,” Abby mumbles, and Alex frantically turns in circles until she can find what used to be the convenience store attached to the subway terminal. This is an older tunnel; one of the ones that’s more touristy now and has shops attached to it, and without really thinking about it Alex decides she needs to try to take something with her. She won’t be able to find a first aid kit, but they’ll need water, if nothing else. 

“I’ll be right back,” she says, and somehow Abby reaches out to grab her ankle.

Abby’s hair is sticking to her forehead, matted with blood, and her eyes are glazed and wild, but the water’s coming and Alex is suddenly deadly calm. She pries Abby’s hand off of her and holds it for a heartbeat before she answers the question Abby’s too scared to ask: “I’m not leaving you”, before she scrambles over a pile of rubble and into what’s left of the store.

She manages to bag some waters and tie the bag to her belt loop before she makes it back to Abby, and when she does, she sees that the water is at an inch over the tracks and rising. “This is gonna hurt,” she says, by way of apology, and Abby nods.

Alex crouches and pulls Abby up by her good arm (or at least the one that’s not lying at an awkward angle), letting Abby prop up against her. There’s a groan, then, a groan that Alex feels in her own bones, like she’s feeling Abby’s aches. It’s not a noise she’s going to forget.

She wants to stop. She wants to lie down and give up.

The thing is, though, this isn’t about her anymore- it’s about Abby, and if there’s one thing she’d rather die than do it’s let Abby down.

She launches them off the platform and twists in the air so that she’s the one that lands heavily, with Abby haphazardly sprawled on top of her. All the same, the landing jars Abby’s arm- broken, most likely- and she cries out. Alex wants to say something, to apologize, but she’s winded and trying not to choke on the brackish water that’s swirling around them, three inches and rising.

Abby rolls off of her and somehow manages to get to her knees, teeth gritted in pain and unable to speak, but she nods again and Alex forces herself up to drape Abby’s good arm over her shoulders and get them going again. She has to. Their choices are the ladder or twelve feet of water and a one-way ride down the tracks in the wrong direction. In the time that it takes them to cross the tracks, the water’s up to their calves and moving fast. At the base of the ladder Alex pauses, and Abby, still either in too much pain or shock to speak, doesn’t even look up at where it leads.

“Do you think you can manage to make it up if I go right behind you?”

Abby shakes her head, and Alex’s stomach sinks to her knees. She’s about to try to figure out the physics of carrying Abby over a shoulder or something when Abby speaks for the first time in minutes, gritty and determined as she finally lifts her gaze toward their only escape.

“I’m gonna have to.”

And she does.

The water is chasing them and she can’t feel anything except the sharp and insistent and crippling pain in her left shoulder, so bad that she’s wishing it has just come off. It hangs dead weight on that side and she has to pull herself up with one arm, pushing with her legs, and there’s more than one time that she wants to give up.

The thing that keeps her going is when she looks down and sees Alex watching her.

Alex believes that she can make it and she’ll be damned if she doesn’t live up to that standard.

It feels like hours later that Abby pulls herself up onto the platform above. It’s too dark for her to see where she is, so all she does is roll out of the way. She’s exhausted; she’s broken; she’s alive.

-

A-Rod's the only one brave enough to climb the fire escape.

Tobin hasn't moved in six hours, and she doesn't acknowledge the company except to scoot over a little bit on the ledge and give Amy room to join her; they sit close enough that their sides touch. It's easier for Tobin to talk without looking, but before she even tries she swallows a few times, scared of what she'll say when she speaks.

“I just can’t understand it.” 

Her voice is rough from not speaking, and somehow the act of saying it out loud brings her to tears before she’s even really started. She drops her gaze to her hands, clasped between her knees. It's Amy, and because it's Amy she lets the tears come and forgets to be ashamed of them. She's shaking from her hands up to her shoulders, her upper back so tense that she can feel the headache start to creep in.

“I don’t understand why He had to take her.”

Amy doesn't speak, because she knows she doesn't have to. It's not up to her to justify Tobin's faith, or God's plan, or Abby and Alex's decision to go back in. All she can do is listen, but she's good at that; she always has been. Maybe more so than Tobin or Lauren, all things considered. Tobin's always called her their glue. She reaches a hand out to Tobin's knee and rubs, offering what comfort she can, encouraging the rest of the words.

“I know He has a plan, and I know I have to trust Him, but I just- I can’t, I mean I can’t with this, with all the things she’ll never get to do and the things I’ll never get to say to her, and I know it’s selfish to think like that but it’s how I feel and I don’t think I can do any of this without her.”

She’s crying so hard and talking so fast that she forgets to breathe, so when she hits a full stop she drags in air like a drowning woman, and Amy pulls her into a hug. They don't have to clarify that Tobin's talking about Alex. Abby and Alex meant so much to all of them, but Tobin had always had a look about her with Alex- a look that said that Alex was her world, even before things moved forward with them- that makes it obvious.

“I can’t do it without her,” she chokes out, and Amy pulls her tighter so that she’s up on her knees in Amy’s arms like a child, her tears wetting the collar of Amy’s shirt. Kneeling, clutching the front of Amy's sweatshirt in her hands, and crying for the 'I love you' that she never got to say, Tobin starts to understand that losing Alex isn't something she'll ever let go of.

-

They huddle up against the wall, Abby silent and beginning to shake with exhaustion or shock or a little bit of both. Alex starts to panic a little again, but this time it’s a slow burn of panic that rises in the back of her throat. The longer Abby doesn’t talk, the worse it gets, until her hands are shaking as she takes off her jacket and covers Abby’s torso, trying to keep her warm in case it really _is_ shock and not just exhaustion or pain. They’re shaking so badly that even Abby notices, and she uses her good hand to grab Alex by the wrist.

“I’m okay. Drink something.”

Now that it’s been mentioned, she’s so thirsty she can hardly take it, and she downs half a water bottle before the idea of rationing even occurs to her. She drops it guiltily, but Abby doesn’t look at her with anything but concern. This is her mentor. This is someone she respects with every iota of her being; someone she has looked up to for months, someone who has saved her in more ways than she can count. And now it’s her turn to repay that.

She rips one of her shirtsleeves and wets it with some of the water from her water bottle so that she can clean around where Abby’s hurt. Mostly it’s just cuts and bruises, things that Alex knows pepper her own skin, but there’s a cut above Abby’s ear that’s just stopped bleeding. It’s not deep but it’s bled so much that Abby’s neck and shoulder are stained with it.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Abby says, as if she can read Alex’s mind, “but my shoulder’s dislocated. You’re gonna have to pop it back in.”

This is something all the new recruits are trained to do, by Bue's insistence that it’s one of the most useful things anyone can learn, but Alex has always been squeamish about it and it turns Abby’s stomach to make her do it. If she could pop her own shoulder back in, she would, but as it is she just takes a gulp of water and talks Alex through it. She figures that way Alex won’t feel too bad about hurting her. 

“Hold my arm so that the elbow’s bent at ninety degrees, then turn it in towards me and then out.”

“I know.”

Alex hesitates, though, before she turns it out, and Abby sighs, mostly at the situation.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“It’s gonna hurt a hell of a lot worse if you don’t do it, Alex.”

Alex's hands are shaking again. She remembers the sound Abby had made when she’d dragged Abby to her feet down on the lower platform, and from here she can hear the water rushing through. The panic rises again and she shakes her head, the words leaving her lips before she even really thinks about it: “I can’t.”

“You’ve done it before.”

“On a dummy. Abby, I- I’m sorry.”

“Alex-”

“I can’t.”

“ _Alex_ -”

She’s in full-blown panic now, and Abby’s raised voice isn’t helping so she just tries to be louder- louder than the rushing water and her rushing blood and the doubts that are flooding her, digging her fingers into Abby’s arm.

“I can’t!”

“Just fucking do it, Alex!”

It’s too much. She jerks Abby’s arm to the side and hears the pop, sees every muscle in Abby’s body relax as she thunks her head back against the wall and closes her eyes. For a long time there’s just Abby’s pulse under her fingers and her own pulse racing in her chest and the water, always rising.

“I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

“I deserved it.”

Abby wants to say Alex didn’t deserve it, but now that the pain’s not forefront in her brain, exhaustion is. She stretches out her legs and after a moment Alex shifts to lie on her back, with her head in Abby’s lap. She looks cold to Abby, in what little light there is (and there’s barely any), so Abby takes it upon herself to return the jacket, draping it over Alex’s arms. Alex doesn’t fight her. When she speaks, Abby realizes how close she is to tears.

“They probably think we're dead, don’t they?”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean, they’re not going to go looking for us.”

Abby realizes then and there that this is the first time since the aftershock that the others have even crossed her mind.

She thinks of Hope when she answers, “I don’t think so, Al.”

There’s a long silence before Alex sighs, so deeply that she comes up off of Abby’s lap a little when she does, and Abby can hear the hitch of tears in her breath.

“Not even Tobin?”

That’s the heart of it, really. The idea of Tobin grieving for them, but specifically for Alex, does something hot and angry to Abby’s gut. This is her fault, after all. If she’d listened to Christie they’d both be back where they belonged right now, safe and sound. Abby drops a hand to Alex’s head, stroking her hair off her forehead, knowing that whatever verbal comfort that she can give won’t be enough.

“They’d never let her go out alone.”

-

The roof isn't visible from most of the 'yard' (which is really an empty lot, just asphalt and some potted plants and a bench), but from the far corner where the back gate is, Christie sees everything. She's coming back from a routine around-the-block check. Distracting herself- distracting HAO, who had gotten angry before she had gotten sad- with a useless patrol had done next to nothing. They're silent, because there's no way to talk about it. There's no way to encompass the whole of a grief like this in words. Abby and Alex are too big a part of them, of all of them, to talk about losing them as if it's the kind of thing that can be written. It can't. Grief isn't like that.

It's harder on HAO and Cheney than it is on anyone else, losing Abby. It's hard to think that losing one means more than losing the other, but for some of them it _is_ like that. HAO grew up with Abby. Abby's been her big sister for ten years and losing her like this is enough to dismantle her. She feels like she's been slightly knocked off-course from the rest of the world, like an astronaut that's been plucked out of his shuttle and dropped in the middle of space with nothing to anchor him.

She sees Christie looking, and she looks, too. She's glad to see that someone's finally gone up to try to talk to Tobin, but she's never seen Tobin like that and it scares her enough that she reaches for Christie's hand.

"Do you think she'll be okay?"

"I think she's tougher than she thinks she is."

-

Alex wakes up and Abby is still asleep, with an arm over her torso like even unconscious she’s ready to protect and defend Alex from anything that might come their way. It takes her a moment to realize what’s woken her up- it’s a flashlight, shining right at her. She can’t see who’s holding it and for a second she thinks it might be Tobin, until she hears a male voice and jerks so hard that it wakes Abby up.

“Don’t you fucking move.”

-

 

Tact has never been Hope’s strong suit, but especially after a night of living hell she’s lost the ability to say things nicely. That’s why she takes Tobin aside and opens the conversation with, “I don’t think they’re dead.”

Tobin blinks a few times, then yanks her arm out of Hope’s grasp and turns to start walking away. Hope cuts her off, hands held out in front of her in a gesture of supplication: “I’m not fucking with you, okay? Hear me out. Just because the tunnel collapsed doesn’t mean they died. Those things are built on an archway blueprint. They could easily have lived through the aftershock.”

Tobin’s reply holds so much venom that it makes Hope take a step back.

“You think I didn’t think of that? What about the flood, Hope? What about the raids?”

She has to admit that Tobin has a point; given the aftermath of the disaster there’s a statistically miniscule chance that both Abby and Alex are still alive. That doesn’t change how she feels about it, though, and in the end that’s what matters. Not the probability of her being wrong, but the probability that her hunch is _right_.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you really believe Alex is gone.”

She can see the grief in sharp relief on Tobin’s face, but there’s something else there, too. Resolve. The deeply buried anger of someone denied any kind of closure. 

“If this is some kind of joke, I swear I’ll kill you.”

“It’s not a joke. You know it; you know they’re not dead. You feel it too.”

Tobin sighs, shifting her weight back a little and crossing her arms. Hope can see the wheels turning and prays they’ll lead Tobin to her side.

“Why do you care, anyway? You hate them.”

That ought to be true, but in all honesty it’s not. Alex, despite Hope’s stubbornness, had grown on her. There’s something about that big a smile and that much determination that makes it hard to hate someone. And Abby- well, they have more in common than either of them will ever admit. And she can’t sit here and watch everyone mope around just because they _think_ Abby and Alex _might_ be dead. It’s inefficient.

“Just because I don’t like them doesn’t mean I want them to stay trapped in a collapsed subway tunnel.”

-

There are five men and even after Abby wrestles the gun out of the first one's hands there are too many to fight, tired and hungry as they are. It turns out that three of them have guns out, anyway, so they'd have been dead before they got ten feet, and Alex is compliant right away, mostly out of fear. Abby fights it the whole way. With her hands held behind her back as they walk, her recently dislocated shoulder throbs anew, but she pushes back when her kidnapper pushes her forward, until another jabs her in the ribs with the barrel of his pistol. Alex looks terrified that someone will shoot Abby dead right there, so Abby stops, paying close attention to where they're going- right, then left, then right- before both of them are shoved into an empty room that must have been used for storage. The floor is tile and the walls are tile but other than that and a lightbulb it's bare, and when Alex spins back around, all five of the men are armed. 

"What do you want from us?"

The way Abby says it does not suggest she's willing to give it. They're standing close enough that Alex can touch Abby's hip with one hand without moving too much, and it's strange to be the one doing the calming, but it's an instinct she doesn't dare ignore.

The shortest of them is clearly some sort of a leader, because he stands a bit in front of the others and his gun- a semi-automatic of some kind- is the biggest. He's the one to address them, looking Abby up and down before he does. She's got at least six inches on him; she considers dropping him to the ground but worries for Alex's safety if she should try.

"We don't want anything _from_ you. We were just looking for _you_."

-

Ali's more shaken than anyone expects her to be, and because they don't expect it, they don't notice it. They stop shifts for the next two days while Lauren puts together some kind of memorial. There's no bodies, so it's not a proper funeral, just two potted ash saplings, side by side. They don't speak, they just sit for a while. In a lot of ways Ali thinks it's sadder than a funeral, though she's never been to one. The saplings bend and sway in the almost-violent pre-storm wind but bounce back. Ashlyn sits beside her, blinking, trying to decide which sapling is Abby's and which is for Alex.

Tobin's the one to choose, in the end. She makes her way from the circle of them to the middle, where the saplings are, and drapes something among the branches. It's Alex's cross. Ali can see it when she looks closer.

She sniffs, and it catches Ashlyn off-guard when Ali reaches for her hand. 

It's their shift that night, and they don't mind the rain so they take the scanner onto the porch where one of the umbrellas keeps it dry. Ashlyn can easily hear it over the rain itself, but they're only there for a few minutes before Ali turns and tucks herself into Ashlyn's arms. It startles Ashlyn- if Ali's been unusually morose she hasn't noticed amidst everyone else- but she rubs Ali's back, between her wings, and lets her cry. 

"Hey, it's okay. We're okay."

"It could have been anybody," Ali says, but of course what she means is that it could have been _Ashlyn_. Seeing Tobin without Alex was like seeing a shadow without a person- jarring and wrong- and it made her imagine what it would be like to lose Ashlyn like that. Not that she hasn't worried for Ashlyn before, just that their situation now calls for them to put themselves in danger daily, and losing Ashlyn has never felt like such a possibility.

Ashlyn shifts on the bench so that she can drag Ali into her lap and pulls back, wiping Ali's tears away, searching Ali's face for the truth behind what she's trying to say. She knows it's more than that Ali's in shock, or that she's afraid- she's thinking hard about something. Ashlyn knows better than to ask. Ali will say it when she's ready and not a moment sooner; it's how she does everything.

"It could have been you."

"But it wasn't, Ali. I'm okay. I'm right here."

Ali frames Ashlyn's face in her hands and kisses her, and the wind blows the rain under the umbrella and sprays them, unwelcome. 

"What if I can't do this?"

"What do you mean, babe?"

Ali sighs, pressing her forehead to Ashlyn's and closing her eyes. If she says what she's about to everything is going to change, most notably the way that Ashlyn looks at her. She doesn't want to be a disappointment. She doesn't want to be _weak_. But she doesn't want to be dishonest, either.

"I mean, what if I'm not cut out for this? What if I'm too selfish to let you put yourself on the front line like this?"

Ashlyn almost smiles, because of course it's about _her_ and not about Ali. Ali's not scared for herself, she's selfless, and there's such love in Ashlyn for that moment that she _almost_ lets that smile go. She manages to hold it back because Ali's so serious, like this is the end of the world and not a hitch and cough in their well-oiled machine.

"You mean what if you want to go?"

Ali nods.

"Then we'll go. I'd follow you anywhere."

"You shouldn't have to."

Ashlyn sighs, taking Ali's hands in hers and bringing them to her lips.

"It's not about whether or not I have to. This is how things are, okay? No matter what happens, no matter where we go or who we're with, I'm yours. Forever."

-

The kidnapping isn’t the worst part.

Alex takes it better than Abby does- she’s not as mad- but she’s scared and hiding it. Abby kicks the door until her foot bleeds through her sneaker and then she lets Alex peel her away. She even lets Alex take the shoe off and pour some of the water they were given over it, because she’s too busy trying to think of a way out to fight it. 

The first night is horrifically cold. Alex comes up with the idea of getting into the corner, but she shakes, and Abby’s the one who crawls over and covers Alex with her own body because that’s all there is to do. She drapes her arms over Alex’s shoulders and props Alex up against the converging walls until the shaking stops.

Even that isn’t the worst part. The worst part doesn’t come until what’s probably morning, judging by how long they’ve been awake and sharing sips of water. 

It’s a testament to how powerful the kidnappers think they are that there are four of them together when they come into the room. Alex scuffles her feet, pressing into the corner, and Abby tenses in anticipation, prepared to do whatever she has to do to keep Alex safe. The men don’t seem to want anything in particular. They close the door behind them and stay on that side of the room for a moment, muttering amongst themselves. The automatic weapons in their hands won’t let either of the women relax; Alex wishes she could disappear like Megan and blend into the walls.

One of the men approaches them. Abby flinches towards Alex, but when Alex glances over at her she stays where she is. She knows without a doubt that she could reach over and snap that man’s leg clean in half, should she need to. She’s prepared to.

Their captor leans down and grabs Alex’s chin between his thumb and forefinger.

Abby lurches for him, but one of the men at the door shouts at her that if she wants to live she’d better sit still. Alex makes eye contact with the man who’s touching her, clear and defiant and unwavering, and Abby grits her teeth so hard that her jaw hurts.

“I don’t know,” he says, “this one’s pretty.”

Alex kicks him in the shin and wrenches her face out of his grip; her panic makes her just glance by him and he outright laughs at it, reaching down to pull her to her feet by the arm. She sees Abby move again and gives her a warning look, but it barely works; she notices it when Abby’s hands clench into fists against the dusty tile floor. 

The hand that’s not on her arm pushes against her shoulder until she’s pressed into the wall, but that’s the only place he touches her.

“If you want your friend to live you’d better not try that again, sweetheart.”

He’s on the ground in a heartbeat.

Abby breaks both his arms before Alex’s stifled gasp and the butt of a gun against the back of her neck makes her stop.

They bind her wrists after that, and Alex would protest but there’s a gun to her back and she can hardly breathe to speak. Abby doesn’t seem to have that problem, even after a punch to the face that really was unwarranted considering she’d stopped _before_ they touched her.

“If you think duct tape is gonna hold me...”

Whatever she might have said is cut off. The guy holding a gun to Alex’s back presses it forward until she whimpers and Abby clamps her mouth shut.

“We know it won’t. But if you try anything we’ll kill her.”

Alex has never seen Abby give up so completely.

-

Megan thinks she might be losing her mind.

Aside from the fact that Abby and Alex are dead and her world has _already_ been flipped upside down, she feels like she's living in a constant state of déjà vu. 

It starts with Ali and it ends with Ali. Wherever Ali is, if Megan is there, something about her makes Megan's skin crawl, like she's seen Ali before. And of course she _has_ seen Ali before, because Ali has been there for going on two weeks, but it feels like more than that. She knows she can't explain it when Lori asks her, so she just gives Lori permission to read her mind- because Lori needs permission- and lets it happen.

"I don't get it," Lori says.

"Me either."

It's worse when Ali smiles, which doesn't happen often anymore. Kelley goes out of her way to try to make everyone smile, especially Ali and Tobin, because they're visibly the saddest. If she's doing that she's not thinking about Alex and she's not thinking about Abby and that's the only way to keep from losing her mind. It's been barely a day and she hasn't slept at all. Hope hasn't either.

She joins Tobin on the couch when it rains through the second day, and Tobin nods off on Kelley's shoulder. When Kelley nods off too, too afraid to move and not wanting to wake Tobin up, Hope's the one to carefully rearrange them and cover them with a blanket. Bue sees, and she smiles at Hope, but Hope can't smile back.

Ali's next shift is with Megan- alone with Megan- and Megan takes advantage of the situation over dinner, leaning into the counter. 

"You have a nice smile."

Ali looks up from her salad and smiles, but it's clear she's a little uncomfortable. She is, but only because she can tell that Megan's not trying to pick her up, and she doesn't understand what _is_ going on at all.

"Thank you," she says, sincerely, but Megan almost cuts her off with the next part: "It reminds me of someone, I think."

"Oh," Ali says, because there doesn't seem to be much else to say.

"I'm an amnesiac," Megan elaborates, poking at her chicken instead of making eye contact, "so being reminded of anything is a pretty big deal."

"Did I help you remember someone?"

"No," Megan admits, and she misses the faint look of disappointment on Ali's face, "but I think I'm going to." 

She doesn't add that she's never hoped to remember anything until now.

-

“You could fight them,” Abby says, the next time she speaks. 

Alex looks up but doesn’t answer. Abby’s not even really looking at her. She’s not sure what either of them are thinking.

“You could. You’re fast enough to get out of here.”

“They’d kill you.”

Abby shrugs.

Her lack of reaction makes Alex nauseous, so she tries something else, pretending that part of the conversation didn’t happen solely for her sanity.

“I wouldn’t know where to go.”

“Left, then right, then left, then down the ladder. That’s how they got us here.”

Alex gives up and crawls to Abby on her knees. She lifts Abby’s bound hands up and ducks under them, tucking her head under Abby’s chin and hugging her until her arms tighten back. This time when she cries she doesn’t try to stop it. It’s the first time since the aftershock that she’s let it happen, not counting the few tears that got out the night after she popped Abby’s shoulder back into place.

Alex cries and Abby rocks her like she’s a child until she stops long enough to speak, because as much as she’d like to tell Alex not to cry over it she knows that’s all there is left for either of them to do.

“I want my dad,” she says, broken and quiet against Abby’s neck. 

“I know.”

“I want- I want Tobin.”

Abby just wants Sarah.

“We’re gonna be okay.” It’s the first time she’s lied to Alex, probably ever, but she doesn’t feel bad about it, just promises to herself that she’s going to make it true.

-

Later, Kelley will wonder how she _didn't_ know something was wrong. Wronger than normal, because after two days normal has _become_ wrong. She's exhausting herself trying to cheer up Tobin, who tries her hardest to be cheered but always has an undertone of preoccupied sadness. The second night dinner is almost too boisterous, because Kelley's not the only one trying to breathe life back into the family. Sydney's trying, too, and most of the rest of them make some kind of effort at smiling or laughing or at least speaking, but it's off and they can feel it. Things aren't the same without Abby's voice carrying through the kitchen and Alex's raspy laugh. There's no coverup for it.

But Hope tries the hardest.

She humors Kelley because she feels guilty already with the plans in her back pocket and Tobin's eyes following her wherever she goes. She laughs the loudest, leaning into Kelley's side, and plans out different versions of her note in her head.

Not coming back isn't an option. She can't leave Kelley behind for good, and part of that is deeply selfish.

Kelley gets distracted by Hope's smile and how it changes her whole face, how Hope can go from imposing to charming in the space of half a second. Whatever had started before the shooting has developed into a full-fledged _thing_ now, and Kelley's still handling it, but she feels guilty for feeling anything at all under the circumstances. Kelley feels especially guilty that when Hope's laugh dies out and her smile turns close-lipped, 'kissable' is the description that comes to mind. 

Hope meets Tobin by the saplings once most of them have gone to sleep. It's Jill and Amy and Becky's shift; Hope chose this shift because the three of them are usually engrossed enough in a word game that they won't notice two of their teammates slip out. 

"Are we bringing anything?"

Trust Tobin to be sensible at the worst possible time. She assumes Hope has everything planned out to the last detail, and she's surprised when Hope gives her a look that's almost annoyed.

"If you want to bring something, bring something. We'll know what we need to know pretty quickly. I don't expect we'll be gone long enough to _need_ anything."

To Tobin it sounds like wishful thinking. What it really is, is good old-fashioned avoidance. If Abby and Alex are dead they'll leave alone. If Abby and Alex are alive they'll leave together. Hope is banking on Alex and Abby _not_ being dead, because if they are she can't imagine trying to comfort Tobin after it was her plan to drag them into the tunnel at risk of finding bodies. 

"Give me ten minutes," she says, and Tobin drops her eyes to the saplings, nodding.

Kelley's already asleep; the past two days have caught up with her completely. She hasn't even changed out of her day clothes. She's sprawled face-down on her bed, lips parted, out cold. Hope moves slowly, as quietly as she can, and takes the blanket off her own bed to cover Kelley for the second time in as many days, fighting the pang of guilt that prickles her spine. She leaves the note tucked into Kelley's hand and leaves the room before she's too tempted to stay indefinitely.

-

Kelley has to read the note three times before she believes it.

"Tobin and I went after them. Don't worry about us."

Hope's handwriting is small and careless. Kelley clambers to Hope's bed and finds the blanket gone- on her own bed- and there's no imprint, no impression where Hope's body would have made one overnight. The next place she checks is Tobin's room, where Alex's bed is still unmade, bu Tobin's bed is cold, too, and she doesn't make it back into the hallway before she breaks down completely.

She can't even explain it to Bue, who finds her curled into Tobin's sheets; she's just barely put together enough to thrust the crumpled note into her friend's hands.

Don't worry about them. As if Kelley could do anything else.

-

"This is where it was," Hope says, under her breath, and they pause at the stairwell.

Tobin clears her throat a little bit, trying to make out in the darkness whether the mouth of the tunnel is caved in or they can make it through down to the tracks without trouble. Hope is watching her, like it's her job to make the first move, but she speaks before she takes a single step.

"You won't be able to use your power."

It's the only reason she's doubted this at all. If Alex is dead she wants to know for sure so that things feel less unfinished. For everyone's sake she has to know about Abby, too, even if there wasn't anything between them personally that never got said. Hope chews her lip, then nudges Tobin with an elbow, good-naturedly and forcing a smile.

"I knew that when I asked you. I didn't want to take anyone else."

Together they pick their way down the stairwell and through the tunnel, and Hope is glad that Tobin thought to bring a flashlight but decides not to beat herself up about the oversight. The station itself is a mess, but not an unsurvivable one. Starting from the convenience store they work their way across, and it's Hope that sees the stain on the tile.

She thinks about not saying anything to Tobin, but Tobin catches it too and kneels by it, getting a closer look. It's not necessary. They both know what blood looks like.

"Nobody died there," Hope says after a moment, "there's not enough blood."

Tobin nods, but she has to crouch for a few seconds longer to fight a wave of nausea, because even if this isn't an indication that either of them are dead it's still someone's blood. Someone she loves.

"Okay. If- if we were here, I mean, if it had been you and I, what would we have done?"

Hope frowns.

"Well, the tracks were flooding and there was no way to know if it would overtake the platform or not. I mean, obviously we can tell that it didn't, because the blood would be gone, but beforehand we wouldn't have known. So we'd have tried to get out."

"But if they had come out the stairwell they would have come home."

"Right. And I don't think they would have realized the stairwell wasn't totally blocked. Would they have gone down the tracks?"

"No way. The water would have scared them too bad."

"There's no other way out."

But there has to be, and they both know it. Tobin sweeps the flashlight along the tracks, and she manages a back and forth three times before Hope reaches out and halts the flashlight at a point where the bottommost rung of a ladder is just visible. Her hand on Tobin's, together they move the flashlight to follow the trajectory of the ladder itself, to where it disappears into the ceiling.

Tobin imagines Alex and Abby scrambling up the ladder with the water lapping at their heels. Hope tries not to imagine anything and lets go of Tobin's hand, raising her eyebrows.

"Tell me you're not afraid of heights."

Tobin almost smiles.

-

"What are you planning on doing with us?"

She doesn't get an answer right away. Abby keeps her mouth shut because she's afraid even a single word will get Alex hit, but she's surprised that Alex is trying to communicate at all. Especially the way this letch is looking at her, like she's something to eat. Abby's palms itch with the urge to grab him and throw him into a wall.

"I hope you know that I'm not obligated to answer that."

Alex nods. She's so calm that it shocks her, but as long as she's not panicking she's going to take advantage of it. She has to know what's coming or she'll go completely crazy.

"Yes. I know."

"And don't pretend like you want to help."

"I don't lie."

He laughs at her and her skin crawls; she thinks of Tobin waiting for her- or maybe not waiting at all- and tries again.

"I just want to know what you want with us. I'm not asking for a detailed plan, just an idea."

"You're worth a lot of money. The rogue lady superheroes of NYC, you know? Big bucks if we turn you in to the police. As big as we want."

Abby gets unsteadily to her feet without her arms to balance her, careful not to rip the duct tape now that her powers are back full-force, and sidles in front of Alex to take the conversation over.

"Are you in communication with them?"

"I don't have to tell you that," he answers, and when he's gone Abby slumps against the wall and slides to the ground again as if the minute and a half of exertion has exhausted her completely.

"They're waiting for the others," she says, and to Alex that feels worse than the alternatives had ever seemed.

-

"What I'm about to say doesn't get repeated."

It's a reminder more than it is an order. Becky nods.

Christie passes her a handful of washed green beans, and Becky starts snapping the ends, waiting for the conversation to start. It's not the first time she's been consulted, although she supposes that 'consulted' isn't the right word. Christie has a habit of telling her things that she knows nobody else gets told. She's like a vault, sort of, trusted implicitly. She tries not to let it go to her head.

"I don't think this is a coincidence. That Hope and Tobin didn't come back, I mean- I don't think losing them is a coincidence."

"You think we're being targeted?"

Christie doesn't want to be the first to say it, so she's relieved when Becky does it for her. She moves on to the broccoli, tounging her cheek.

"I don't know. That's what it feels like to me. But I don't think there's a way to try and figure out what's happening without losing more people, and I'd rather be safe and try to keep us from losing anyone else than know the details."

It's like running with your tail between your legs, and she knows that, but losing Abby has done that to her. Abby would have been the one to tell her she was wrong. Becky doesn't dare.

"I have to start making plans," Christie continues, scrubbing a little too hard, losing half a head of broccoli in the process, "in case something should happen to me. And if something does, I want you in charge. Not Shannon, not Heather- you. And I want you to pick your second in command. And your Abby."

There's no job description for Abby, but Becky knows what Christie means. She's a little taken aback by the proposition, but she tries not to show it. It doesn't work because when Christie hands her the broccoli she drops it in the sink. Their hands meet over the broccoli then, and Christie squeezes her fingers, prompting eye contact that Becky had been trying to avoid.

"I don't plan on going anywhere. I just wanted to tell you- just in case."

-

Tobin goes up the ladder first, and when arms reach down through the hole in the ceiling and grab her by the shoulders Hope is too far down to do anything but panic and almost slip off the rungs in her haste to get up and help. She gets a grip on Tobin's ankle, but Tobin's kicking and catches Hope's jaw.

She's kicking because there's a hand over her mouth and four hands lifting her and no matter how hard she pushes against the ceiling they're not letting go. She screams but it's muffled, and all she can do is hope that Hope's smart enough to get back to ground level and get out. Once she's through, the men the hands belong to throw her to the ground, and before she has a chance to get up there are hands around her throat.

Hope launches herself through the hole in the ceiling, scared by the lack of noise, and she's right to be- in the faint light from one of their flashlights she sees the man throttling Tobin and completely loses track of logic.

There's only three of them.

She drops the first one with a merciless kick to the groin and the flashlight rolls, but she knows where they are and when the second one reaches for her she throws a straight left and knocks him into the wall. Another uppercut and he's down for the count but Tobin is still making soft, pitiful noises and Hope can't find her.

She finds him when she steps on his foot and immediately kicks him in the ribs. He's not expecting it- he's too preoccupied with trying to get rid of Tobin- and he rolls, groaning.

Tobin's convinced that she's dead until Hope's hands brush over her throat, and she panics, thinking it's the same man and thrusting up with her knees in an attempt to safe herself. The noise of pain is decidedly feminine, though, and _that's_ when she realize what's happened- Hope's saved her life and Tobin's disarmed her.

Tobin's strangler kicks Hope while she's down and she groans again, rolling onto her stomach and struggling to her hands and knees only to be felled again with another kick to the stomach. The guy with the broken nose gets up just in tie to see the first move to finish his job, and he's the one who stops it before Tobin blacks out completely- "Wait!"

She doesn't hear the rest.

-

Abby’s battered, but she’s alright. That’s Hope’s first thought when the men shoving her and Tobin along the hall push them into the cell- she doesn’t even _see_ Alex. She doesn’t see Abby, really, either. She sees Abby’s eyes, her surprise, but nothing else. Not for a good while.

The moment the men are gone Tobin launches herself into Alex’s arms. Hope doesn’t get that kind of warm welcome from Abby, instead she gets a hand on her wrist and Abby in her personal space. She’s missed it. Even if Abby’s pissed.

“You shouldn’t have come down here,” she hisses, and Hope shrugs her off, fighting the urge to say a petulant ‘you’re not the boss of me’. Instead she cocks her head and looks up at Abby through her eyelashes because that’s easier than thinking about the fact that the four of them are kidnapped and she probably has at least four broken ribs.

“Since when do I do what I _should_ do?”

Tobin clings to Alex, arms around her neck, and almost cries until Alex peels her off far enough to look at her. She can feel the bruises on her neck even before Alex lifts a hand to touch it; Alex knows from the shape that they're from fingers and has to choke back a sob.

“It doesn’t matter,” Tobin says, practically reading Alex’s mind, “I’m here, and you’re here, and it’s gonna be okay.”

It's the last time they talk for a while. Alex even gives Hope a grateful (but gentle) hug, and Abby's more surprised about it than anyone. The whole thing has stopped making sense to her. Tobin coming for Alex makes sense, of course, and Tobin sits at Alex's side like a guard dog, trying her hardest to get a smile out of the other girl and managing once or twice, but Hope is out of place around three people she doesn't care about. 

Hope lifts her shirt and sighs at the damage- bruises all along her ribs, on either side, and it hurts to breathe and she's already stiffening. All she can do is pray she's not bleeding from the inside, although at this point it's not as if there's much any of them can do. Abby frowns at the view, trying to understand what could possibly compel Hope to put herself in danger. An order, maybe, but there's no way Christie sent anyone down after them. 

"If you're trying to prove you're a hero, you definitely did it."

Hope snorts, then winces. Abby tries again. 

"I'm just- this sucks. And I wish you hadn't come down here."

"Why do you care?"

It's a good question, and it's one Abby has to think on for a moment. Two weeks ago she would have openly admitted that she hated pretty much everything about Hope except sleeping with her, which Hope initiated. That wouldn't be true now. Hope is tenacious, and she smart, and Abby even trusts her. 

"Why do _you_?"

-

 

There are things that they could say, if they wanted to, but no string of words will comfort them as much as they’re already comforted by being together. The knowledge that Alex is alive, the undeniable facts offered by the press of Alex’s knee against Tobin’s and the flutter of breath against her neck- it’s enough. 

It’s been days since either of them really slept, and it’s not long before they feel it start to catch up to them; now that Alex is done crying her eyes burn and her head hurts and she moves until she’s comfortable, curled up into Tobin’s side. She can see Hope and Abby sitting against the wall, can hear them murmur to each other like white noise.

She shifts a little bit on the hard ground, just trying to get comfortable, and half-asleep Alex clings to her arm with more strength than she means to.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

It’s Tobin’s voice but she doesn’t remember deciding to say it. Alex is crying all over again, but quietly, into Tobin’s shirt because she doesn’t want Abby to know. It’s relief. It’s not fear, and she knows that Abby will assume that it is, and she knows that anything she says contrary to what Abby believes is just going to sound like an excuse, but she’s spent days now vigilant for Abby’s sake and it’s breaking her down. Trying to keep up with the kind of courage Abby is capable of- it’s exhausting.

 

-

The thought occurs to her in the middle of the night, or at least in the middle of what feels like night, just as Hope is starting to nod off against her own shoulder. 

“Whose idea was it to come down here, anyway?”

“Tobin’s.”

Hope answers it too quickly, even half asleep, and Abby nudges her with an elbow to show she doesn’t believe it. Hope’s coverup reeks of bullshit, and at this point Abby just wants her to admit that the attraction they have for each other is more than skin deep so that _she_ can stop pretending she doesn’t like _Hope_ as much as she does.

“Bullshit. Tobin would never choose you to come down here with her.”

Hope shifts to give her an incredulous look, like she absolutely cannot believe that just came out of her mouth, and Abby feels like maybe she fucked that one up. She backpedals- “I just mean that she would have brought Amy or Lauren first,”- but the damage is already done and Hope shakes her head.

“What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to admit that you came down here because you like me and you were worried about me.”

“Well, maybe I came down here because I wanted my fuck-buddy back.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

-

Sleep doesn't come easily for them, if it comes at all. For Hope it's a matter of not wanting to let Abby stay up alone; for Abby it's because she can't bear to let her guard down for two seconds, especially not while Tobin and Alex are sleeping. She owes them that. 

At first they had slept fitfully and apart, as if they were trying to hide the obvious, but by now they aren't bothering and succumb to exhaustion wrapped up together in a ratty blanket, Alex with an arm slung around Tobin's waist. 

It makes Hope's heart hurt and she hates that she's feeling so much lately, but at least here she can blame it on lack of sleep. She slides to the ground next to Abby, drawing her knees to her chest and ignoring the pain, and avoids it when Abby looks at her like she's thinking about something, opting instead for watching Alex's ribs rise and fall with her breath. Abby watches Hope for a moment, then gives up trying to read her and sighs. 

"We could distract these guys long enough to let Alex and Tobin get outta here," she says, scuffing the ground with her foot, "me and you, we could do it."

Hope gives her such an incredulous looks it's as if she's spoken Mandarin. 

"What, and get ourselves killed?"

"Sooner rather than later. And save the kids."

The idea of Abby senselessly putting herself back in life-or-death danger claws at Hope's stomach until she's forced to admit to herself that she cares too much- it's why she's here, and it's why she'll do anything in her power to keep Abby alive. But that's not what she says.

"Look," she sighs, "you've got to stop playing the hero. We're powerless here."

"Alex was powerless when she saved my life."

Abby doesn't mean for it to come out the way it does, but it holds a lot of weight and it needs to be said. She owes Alex everything, and that erases whatever shred of self-preservation instinct she might have had. Hope shifts and her elbow touches Abby's arm, but when Abby looks over she's still not making eye contact, she's just crossed her arms. 

"Yeah, well, I'm not Alex." 

There's a split second where Abby looks at Alex, then back at Hope, and finally makes the connection. All the pieces fit together suddenly and cleanly: Hope's attitude, her penchant for harassing Alex, and her failed rescue mission coming together to make a picture Abby's not sure how she managed to miss. Hope doesn't hate Alex- she's _threatened_ by Alex.

"Nobody's asking you to be."

Hope scoffs but she leans into Abby's arm a little and in the faint light that seeps under the crack of the door she swears Abby can see her start to smile.

Hope came down to save them, and even if she failed the fact remains. Abby can't deny anymore that there's a lot about Hope that she respects, at least then and there, with her bruises and Tobin's significantly lesser injury suggesting that she took the brunt of the blows to save Tobin's life. It's something Abby knows _she_ would have done.

"Nobody asked for me at all."

Abby doesn't argue because technically Hope is right, and watching what little light there is play off the other woman's cheekbones is way more interesting than starting an argument she knows she's going to lose.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> friends pop up in unlikely places.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: suicide/ideation, violence against women, guns. Be careful! I don't want to trigger anyone! 
> 
> ALSO: this may be my last upload for the next three weeks. I'm away at camp and will only have my iPhone with which to write, if I'm lucky enough to finish another chapter (doubtful), one of my buddies will have to upload it for me.

The bite of the wind against Kelley’s cheeks is welcome.

At least, it’s more welcome than the memories it brings, the last time she was leaning into the wind like this. She had intentions then that she’s not sure she has now, but the memory is enough to make her wonder. It’s fall. Almost winter, but not enough yet to warrant a real coat, just a sweatjacket. Tobin’s. Too long in the arms, not that Kelley’s own sweatshirts aren’t.

She’s running out of clothes of theirs that still smell like them and not of her or of detergent. She dreads the day she wakes up and their distinct smells are gone for good, because she won’t know what to do. She doesn’t know what to do even now, since their patrols have been suspended until the end of the week, and it’s been three days in already. She’s not even sure if she’s going stir crazy or plain crazy.

The building is tall enough. Nobody would expect it, but she doesn’t think anyone would be surprised, either. For a long time, what feels like hours, she tries to decide if she’s useful enough to take a step back from the ledge.

“Isn’t it a little cold to be hanging out up here?”

Kelley lurches in surprise, but backward, and takes the step to safety without deciding to. It’s Ashlyn who’s interrupted her, and Kelley almost glares at her except that she has to blink away the tears that the wind has brought. At first she’s not sure whether Ashlyn has any idea why she was up here alone, but when she turns and Ashlyn is crouched, watching her with those eyes that aren’t quite human but aren’t quite anything else, she knows better.

Ashlyn knows approximately what Kelley intended to do, or at least what she was entertaining the thought of. It scares her and it makes her sick to her stomach to think it, but she _does_ think it, and she’s glad to be there. Glad that Kelley’s not standing so close to the edge anymore. 

“It’s not that bad.”

“It’s pretty bad. C’mere.”

Kelley comes, mostly because it’s better than the alternative. Ashlyn sits with her back into the wind and extends a wing, so that Kelley’s shielded from the worst of it. Ashlyn presses her hands between her knees, pink with wind, and Kelley wonders if she’d been flying. She has, of course. She flies daily now, when she can, to make up for the years that she couldn’t. She looks down at her hands, sparing occasional glances at Kelley to try and dissect what her expression means, but it’s simple. Flat.

She’s tired.

“My friends are dead,” Kelley says. It’s the first time she’s said it out loud, and it feels like twisting a knife in her own gut.

“Maybe not,” Ashlyn replies, but she doesn’t mean it. Even she tries not to hope for anything more than her own safety, and Ali’s. 

“Tobin saved my life, once. And Alex was the first one to make me laugh again, after, and Hope,” she trails off, because she’s not ready to say it yet, and it feels wrong to say it to someone else having never gotten to say it to Hope the way she’d like to. Not that it would matter, really, because Hope was fucking Abby, and even though Kelley’s smart enough to know that had nothing to do with any relationship between them, it meant something to _her_ , but it’s worse now that the chance to do what she knows she wouldn’t have is gone. She can’t even look at Hope and entertain herself with ‘what if’ questions anymore. She can’t even be mildly annoyed at the amount of attention Hope gives to Abby, naked or not- they’re both gone.

“I know you’re scared. And I know, I mean, I’ve never been at that point, but I understand why you feel like you’re so alone you have to... fix it.”

Kelley doesn’t answer. She hadn’t expected Ashlyn to address her so directly aout it, the ideation, so she doesn’t have anything to say.

“I’m not gonna try to tell you not to do it, cause I know that bullshit doesn’t work. And the ‘it gets better’ bullshit doesn’t either, right?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Not for me, probably.”

“Well, if it works, tell me and I’ll say it. But what I can tell you is that you’re not as alone as it feels like you are. I mean, your two closest friends are gone, maybe. Probably. But that doesn’t make you alone, Kelley, it just kind of- it makes you lonely. And there’s a difference, see? Because you can be alone but not be lonely. And you can be lonely and be surrounded by people, but you can’t be alone around lots of people. You’re not alone, are you following? I’m here. And so is everyone else, they’re all here, physically but also, you know. A grief fraternity, I guess. You don’t have to hurt alone.”

Kelley takes a moment to think about what it’s like for everyone else. Cheney and HAO losing their big sister. A-Rod and Cheney losing their third musketeer. Every single one of them has a reason to miss any of the four of them, and Kelley has to fight to avoid feeling selfish for focusing on her own grief instead of theirs. Ashlyn selflessly blocking the wind, her concern, is ultimately what gives Kelley her answer: she’s never going back to that ledge.

She has people left to love, starting with Ashlyn, who she hugs so tightly that her fingers brush feathers. She jerks away, afraid maybe she’s overstepped, and Ashlyn laughs a little, extending her wings again.

“You can touch them if you want. It doesn’t bother me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Just don’t...pluck anything.”

Kelley skates her fingertips over Ashlyn’s shoulder, the base of her wings and outward. The feathers are coarser than she expected them to be, in places, and softer in others. She wonders if they itch but doesn’t want to ask, but Ashlyn seems to know what she’s thinking: “Molting is the worst. Come spring you guys will want to kick us out.”

-

It’s an ugly habit of hers, the denial, and Hope knows it. In the heat of the moment, face-to-face with people, confronted with relationships and choices to be made, she invariably isolates herself by insisting she doesn’t really _care_. She _does_ care. She worries about Tobin when they start to stir and wake and the fingerprint bruises on her throat have turned a sickly purplish yellow. She worries about Alex, who touches Tobin like she’s fragile. She even has time to be more than just annoyed at Abby, whose concern for the younger women is painfully genuine and earnest. Hope knows Abby blames herself. None of these things are as pressing, in what feels like it might be early morning, as Kelley.

Alex is the one to bring it up.

“I hope Kelley’s okay,” she says, quietly, and Abby shrugs as if to say ‘worry about yourself right now’.It’s uncharacteristic of her, but she’s tired and thirsty and aching in too many ways to add another. Alex’s empathy knows no bounds. It’s more than just a superpower- she imagines herself in Kelley’s shoes, alone, and is hit by a pang of loss that threatens to swallow her whole. Tobin touches her knee but says nothing. In a desperate attempt to lighten the mood, Hope’s humor takes a turn for the dark: At least I’m out of her hair.”

“She likes you,” Abby replies, “don’t say that. She cares about you.”

“I’m a pain in her ass.”

“Abby’s right.”

Tobin speaks up, managing a weak smile, “Kelley’s a masochist like that.”

THere’s a hint of a laugh pushing at Hope’s exasperated smile when she tells Tobin to shut up. It’s absurd, talking so lightly when they could starve or get shot, but in a way that’s all they _can_ do. That or go crazy with fear, and Tobin’s not letting that become an option.

“Kelley was definitely bummed when she- you know. Figured out about you guys.”

Abby flushes and clears her throat- not that she was under any illusion that they were at all subtle, but just that it feels dirty and stupid now- and watches Hope’s ears redden under the single lightbulb’s muted glow. Eventually Hope shakes her head.

“She doesn’t want to have anything to do with me like that. And if she does then she shouldn’t.”

“Well, yeah. She’s the relationship type.”

Abby’s reply is joking but still stings a little, and Alex and Tobin can both tell by the way Hope bristles.

“Not what I mean. I meant- she’s- she wouldn’t know what she was getting into.”

“You wouldn’t either,” Tobin promises, and Alex stifles a giggle that surprises her, like a flower growing in the wake of a fire. Hope pushes on- “She’s too young for me anyway”- and Abby outright laughs.

“Keep telling yourself that. We can all tell that you like the idea. Just don’t...fuck around with her. She’s worth more than that.”

It’s almost a challenge in Hope’s mind, but she’s just made the decision to ignore it when the door opens and one of the men steps through.

Alex flinches and Tobin feels a wave of nausea at what that flinch might mean. Even so, she scrambles to her feet in front of Alex and presses her back against the corner. Abby struggles to her feet, too, using just one arm, and then reaches down to help Hope up as she struggles to make her stiff and aching torso work.

Abby recognizes him, although he’s never been involved in much until now. He’s one of the younger men- Tobin and Alex’s age, probably- and he doesn’t have the gritty look to him that some of the other men do. He’s clean-shaven and doesn’t move as if stalking prey, and his pistol is hooked into his jeans waistband like he’s not concerned at all that Hope and Abby together could easily kill him with their bare hands. Either he trusts them- unlikely- or he’s too stupid to really get it. There’s a man behind him that’s at least three shades lighter and three inches shorter and three IQ points dumber whose rifle rests in his beefy hands.

“I can take two of you at a time to go eat and bathe,” says the unarmed one, “who wants to go first?”

Abby doesn’t hesitate to step back from him, and when she does, Hope does. Not out of any desire to be _alone_ with Abby, particularly, especially after their last discussion, but because Tobin and Alex ought to eat first. That, at least, is something they can both agree on. Tobin shamelessly reaches for Alex’s hand and tugs her forward, and when they disappear into the hallway Hope can’t help but wonder if it’s a trick.

Abby says exactly what she’s thinking and when she speaks the armed man turns back to face them, glowering from the doorway.

“If anything happens to them I’ swear I’ll rip out of this duct tape and fucking castrate you.”

Hope tenses, and the thug lifts his gun, bristling. Abby doesn’t even so much as blink.

“What the fuck did you say?”

She squares her shoulders and tilts up her chin.

“I said I’ll fucking-”

Her sentence is cut off when the guy lifts his gun and shoots her.

Hope yelps, Abby cries out, and she crumples to the ground clutching her thigh. Hope drops to her knees and scrambles to her; the thug in the doorway spits in their direction and leaves them there with Abby’s blood seeping through Hope’s fingers.

Hope kneels with her knees on either side of Abby’s, pulling her shirt over her head and ripping into it to have a makeshift tourniquet. Abby’s lower thigh is still heavily bleeding, and Abby yelps when Hope ties the strip of fabric tightly around it, but she doesn’t complain. She’d rather the mind-numbing pain of the bullet than bleeding out on the floor.

Which she might still do, as far as she knows.

Hope sits back on her heels, still straddling Abby’s knee, and Abby fishes in her pocket for the billfold she has with her. There’s no money in it, just receipts and little notes and a photo, which is what she’s digging for. Hope watches for a moment and then reaches for Abby’s hands, trying to get her to sit still for half a second; she’s too slow and Abby thrusts the picture into her hand before anything else can happen.

“I need you to do me a favor.”

Hope considers the picture- a young, attractive twenty-something girl- and shakes her head, cracking a joke. 

“I don’t do brunettes.”

“I’m serious. There’s a girl- her name’s Sarah. Sarah Huffman.”

“What, you want me to write her a love letter?”

Abby thinks she’d like to hit Hope if she weren’t too busy worrying about what arteries the bullet hit and what her chances are of infection. She forces herself to focus on one thing at a time and frowns.

“If things get bad. For me, I mean.”

Hope laughs, fighting a wave of panic when she notices that Abby’s started to bleed through the tourniquet.

“Shit, really? You want your fuck buddy to write your girlfriend a letter if you die?”

“Yeah.”

It’s too serious. Hope shifts to sit against the wall next to Abby instead of practically on her, putting the picture down for a second to tighten the tourniquet again.

“You’re not gonna bleed out. How long have you been dating her?”

“We’re not really dating.”

Hope picks the picture up again and looks a little closer, trying to conjure the subject into life. Trying to imagine this girl with Abby. She’s young, though, a little too young to seem up Abby’s alley.

“Well, she’s too pretty to be your sister.”

“That’s an old picture, at least three years.”

“So she’s not pretty anymore?”

Abby doesn’t take the joke well; instead she takes the photo out of Hope’s hand for a moment to look at it, reminding herself again. Sarah will miss her but it won’t ruin her way of life, and that was the idea all along.

“She’s beautiful now.”

Hope fake-gags.

“That is so fucking sappy, Wambach.”

Abby doesn't answer. Hope takes it back and rubs the corner of the photo with her thumb.

“I’m sorry,” Hope says, but she’s not sure why- not sure why she said it and not sure why she’s sorry in the first place. Abby just nods a little, and when she looks up again Hope can see that she’s holding back tears. Nothing has shocked her until that moment, and it’s not Abby crying that surprises her; it’s the idea of someone else maybe crying over _Abby_ \- someone outside the group- that rocks her back on her heels.

She can’t remember what it’s like to have someone worry about her the way Abby's worried about Sarah.

"If it- I mean, if something happens, even though it's not going to, hypothetically if something _did_ happen, I promise I'll do it. I'll write your letter."

She's never been this serious with Abby, but she can tell it's appreciated because Abby lets up off the wound for a second to squeeze her forearm.

"We're not gonna die here," Hope says, and despite the force she tries to put into it her voice wavers with uncertainty. Again she think of Kelley, as Abby starts to tremble and the sweat stands out on her temples and in the hollow of her neck. She's going into shock and Hope can't do anything to help her. On top of that, for all they know, Tobin and Alex might be dead, and Sarah's picture is burning a hole in her back pocket where she's moved it. If she'd had the energy for it she supposes she might have cried.

Abby feels as if her blood is draining, little by not-so-little. Her chest feels tight and the rest of her feels hollow and empty. There's a panic, then, the deep-rooted kind that's associated with claustrophobia or sudden paralysis, and she wonders if she _is_ dying. If the ticking of Hope's jaw is fear and not frustration. She almost asks for Sarah's picture back- if she's going to go, it's what she wants to see when she does- but the door opens. Hope startles, jolting Abby's leg, and Abby groans, her consciousness growing fuzzy with the sudden onslaught of pain. 

Tobin and Alex stand in the threshold damp and dumbfounded for a full three seconds before Alex scrambles to Abby and Tobin gasps out the only possible question, "what happened" half a whisper and half a croak. It's the blood that's getting to her, the blood on Hope's hands. The young man who escorted them crouches on Abby's other side at the exact moment that Hope spits out her answer, transforming all her internalized fear into aggression: "Your dickhead little friend shot her in the leg."

None of them expect any help, Abby least of all, so when the man asks her if she thinks she can walk a few feet with his help it takes her a minute to answer in the affirmative, blinking to clear her vision. 

"Where are you gonna take her?" Hope is defensive and she knows that if Abby were more conscious it would be a moment she'd never live down, but she doesn't much care. "She's not a horse. You can't just drag her out back and kill her off."

Alex stares at her and Tobin clears her throat and Abby slumps into the guy's shoulder, holding her bad leg off of the ground. 

"I'm taking her to get patched up. I understand that you're suspicious of me, but- just- if there's anyone in this place you can trust, it's me. I promise."

He waits, holding Abby up, until Hope feels as though she has no choice but to nod and let them go. 

"He did exactly what he said he would, with us" Alex says shakily, crouched still where she had been by Abby's side. She's pale, cold from the tile and her wet hair and Abby's blood under her feet, but she feels like she has to say something- half to reassure herself, and half for Hope. Tobin nods in agreement.

"He seems safe. Safer, I mean."

"Yeah? Well, comparatively, that does not make me feel better."

-

Bue jumps when the static of the scanner goes directly to frenzy, knocking into the chess board and toppling half her pieces and all of Megan's. Sydney immediately joins them, half-asleep, from the hallway. Technically their patrol isn't active, but following the schedule is comfort. Spending time together, as if nothing's different- it's worth something. So are their instincts. 

Syd's the one to find Christie, breathlessly waking her, apologizing, and explaining all in one breath. 

It’s gang activity. But it’s not just gang activity, or they wouldn’t bother- it’s around the mouth of the tunnel where their four losses happened. They panicked before they could even consider that it might be a coincidence, but Christie seems to understand why, sitting up immediately and instructing Sydney to wake up everyone else she can.

They convene in the kitchen again and Christie chooses five to go with her- Ashlyn and Ali, Jill, Cheney, and Sydney.

Becky is, very purposefully, not on the list.

-

Seven.

Seven and that can’t be all of them because they wouldn’t all expose themselves at once. Seven men with assault rifles and a secret between them and three cop cars facing off.

“We’ll handle it,” Ashlyn says, and she and Ali don’t have to talk about it before they’re off with a nod’s blessing from Christie. They circle high, but silently, and when Ali makes the first hit the other men are so confused that they can’t bother to shoot at her before Ashlyn’s upon them. They’re not interested in injuring anyone- that’s not their job- all they do is lift the rifles away, or kick them away, or rattle the guys bad enough that someone else can get to them, including the cops- two of whom have guns trained on their wings.

It only takes two left with guns for shit to hit the fan.

Ali hears the first gunshot in an upward climb and spirals out of it, wishing she had Ashlyn’s vision because she can’t see who fired it, and the popping is going back and forth now too fast for her to discern between the different weapons. Ashlyn can see just fine- can see just fine when one of the two gang members turns on the other and shoots him in the side.

Recklessly, Ashlyn dives to kick the gun out of the guy’s hands, and one of the cops’ shots glances past her wing, and Ali drags her to the rooftop before she can insist that she’s fine. The cops mostly have things under control, now that Christie’s managed to disintegrate whatever guns she could get her hands on, but Lauren goes right to the injured without thinking about whether or not he’s ‘good’ or ‘bad’.

It doesn’t matter. 

He’s a person, and he’s hurt, and it’s her job to keep him alive, so she pushes his shirt up over his stomach and spreads her hands across the wound and is shocked when he grabs her hands with his own.

“Let them call an ambulance,” he says. His hands are warm and dry and larger than they have any right to be, and the calmness in his eyes is unnerving. The _kindness_.

“They’re going to anyway,” she says. “I can’t fix it this quickly, I’m just- I’m helping.”

“Your friend is hurt.”

She clears her throat as the skin knits together under her palms. One of the officers hovers a few feet behind her and she resists the urge to reach up and pull her scarf tighter around her face, afraid she might be recognizable, but her work is more important.

“I’ve seen plenty of that.”

She spares a glance at his face again and is surprised again by how calm he is, like this isn’t the first time he’s been shot, maybe, or like he was expecting it. The only other thing that really shocks her is how young he is. He doesn’t look like a gang member. He looks like-

“Holiday,” the officer says from behind her, “we’ve got an ambulance on the way.”

A cop. He looks like a _cop_.

When she starts to pull her hands away he stills them with a little pressure on her wrists, tugging her forward so that he can speak to her with his voice lowered. Despite herself she flushes, swallowing hard, unable to meet his gaze. In a way a cop is worse than a gang member. A cop is someone who will want her to expose herself- worse than someone who just wants her dead.

“You’re missing people,” he says, one hand wrapped around her left wrist, fingers pressing against the inside, where her pulse races. “Four, right?

She doesn’t answer him, but her heart skips. She can see Christie hovering, too, out of the corner of her eye, Jill and Sydney behind her. There’s the distant wail of sirens and she feels as if she’s running out of time.

“Four,” he repeats, and his thumb brushes over her skin, “two closer to your age, probably dating, definitely involved somehow. Two a little older, one with short hair, one with longer, darker hair. I was there with them, okay? They’re alive. And I can help you get them back.”

“Don’t lie to me,” she says, her voice shaking, but she’s thinking of Tobin and Abby, mostly. Alive. Alive for now, at least, but that’s better than she would have let herself hope for until now. 

“I’ll be here in two days, at ten,” he says, “I understand if you’re not.”

-

" _He_ was cute," Sydney says, the moment Lauren rejoins them in an alley. She's blushing, still, but Ashlyn's bleeding and she hides her embarrassment in her scarf and her task. It's not bad; the bullet barely hit her. 

Lauren knows. She knows it's inappropriate to feel what she just felt for _anyone_ in this situation, but especially for a cop. She's torn between admitting her attraction in order to downplay it, or ignoring Syd completely. She's saved from the decision when Ashlyn starts making cooing noises at her and Christie stops it cold with a pointed look. 

“I think he was a cop,” she says, focusing on Ashlyn’s wing, even though it hardly requires any attention. Ashlyn watches Christie try to hide her sudden panic, and _Christie_ panicking makes _her_ panicky, so that she glances at Ali and clears her throat and tries not to move her wing even though she’s itching to.

“He didn’t see you, did he?”

“Of course not. I had my scarf up. But he did speak to me.”

Christie waits for the rest of the sentence, but it never comes; as clueless as she is as to why Lauren’s being difficult, _Lauren_ is even more confused. It’s not that she doesn’t want the rest of the team to know that Abby and the others are safe- she wants them to know- but she’s afraid to say that he extended some kind of invitation. Really she’s afraid to say that she’s considering it.

When it becomes clear that Lauren's _not_ going to elaborate, Christie works her jaw for a moment and then signals for them to move out; they have neither the time nor the safety here for her to try and drag the confession out. Jill doesn't let Lauren head up the rear. 

They're all a little too worried that she'll disappear. 

-

They convene, completely but not whole, in the living room. There's still the empty spot behind Cap's left shoulder where Abby stood; still an emptiness between Lauren and A-Rod that aches for Tobin's sly wit; still a part of all of them that misses Hope. 

"I assume by now you've all heard about the gang activity near the subway tunnel, and the shooting. First I want to say we should all," Christie stares fixedly at Ashlyn until she fidgets, and Ali offers nothing in the way of support because she can still feel the residual panic from Ashlyn's reckless dive, "be thankful that we're safe. Tonight could have ended much worse."

Nobody speaks. 

"We got closer to the cops than we meant to," she continues, and this time Lauren comes out with it all in a rush, emboldened by Amy leaning into her side. 

"He was an undercover cop. He- he'd been inside the tunnel, it sounded like. With one of the gangs that did most of the raiding. He knew four of us were missing."

"That's common knowledge by now," Shannon offers, "the police have stopped pretending we're an urban legend, everyone knows about us and everybody wants to find us."

"I know that. But nobody knows what they look like- Alex and Abby and Tobin and Hope, I mean- and he did. He knew stuff he couldn't have known if he hasn't met them, and he told me they were alive."

Kelley makes a soft noise that sounds a little like an injured animal, lips pressed tightly together, and Becky squeezes her forearm, reaching up from her spot on the couch. For a moment there's a flicker of uncertainty, even in Shannon's face; on the others it lingers but Christie hardly blinks. 

"It's a trap. He's a cop, Lauren, he wants us to compromise ourselves. They all do."

As much as that might be true there's still more to the story, and it's too big a secret to keep, so she comes out with it: "He said he can help us get them back if I meet him at the tunnel in two days." It's such a ridiculous proposition that nobody even answers her, least of all Christie, who just crosses her arms like she plans to wait it out until Lauren's ready to concede. 

She does the opposite. It's the memory of Tobin that makes her combative, it's knowing that being in Tobin's position she'd expect someone to come after her, no matter the cost. 

"I have to meet him, Cap. If there's even a chance he's telling the truth-"

"Under no circumstances. That's not a risk I'm willing to let you take."

It's quiet for a moment because Lauren's not sure she wants to continue the argument, but it's clear that she wants to, and A-Rod's body language suggests the same. It's Amy that breaks the silence, looking up from her spot on the couch, partially hidden by Jill- "Abby would go."

Jill leans back and Amy keeps eyes contact with Christie, surprising everyone with her sudden quiet resolve. It's been days since anyone has said any of the four names, and Abby's sticks in Christie's head like a plea. She sets her jaw and draws a breath through her nose, fighting the pang of loss that pushes at her chest.

"Yes, and that's why she's gone and we're not."

It's a betrayal. She knows it when she says it and she wishes it weren't true, but it is- Abby's headstrong recklessness is what got her killed- and she can't let any of the team model themselves after that. Not if she's going to have a team. 

Amy takes it gracefully, but she doesn't concede, and Becky's hand finds her knee in silent support. 

"I'm not trying to be difficult," Lauren murmurs, and she puts everything she can into hoping Christie knows it's true- "I'm not trying to make this a thing, but I won't be able to live with myself if I don't go. I'll take backup, I promise, just- please let me try. If he's right and they do have Tobin and the others..."

“She’s right.”

Everyone falls silent, more so than they ever have, the kind of silence that resonates, the kind of silence that’s so loud they have to strain to hear Carli’s voice over it. Because Carli is the _last_ person that anyone would expect to get involved, but here she is, standing now, fists clenched at her sides.

“Lauren’s right. We just assumed they were dead. I mean, we didn’t even try to look for them, for Abby and Alex after it happened, for closure or anything. We just let them be dead. And then Hope and Tobin did the right thing, and we made them feel like they had to go alone and without telling anyone, when really we should have been with them all along.”

Those of them who have already tried to make an argument- Amy and Lauren in particular- are unfathomably grateful that Carli is, on occasion, able to string words together like this. It doesn’t happen often but it _does_ happen, and it happens when they need it the most. Carli is always there with a surprise, with a way to fix things. 

“If we had gone together they’d still be here. So if Lauren’s gonna meet this guy, and it sure sounds like- I mean, you were gonna go even if she told you ‘no’, weren’t you?”

Lauren nods, the heat rising into her face, avoiding eye contact with Christie, who looks for Becky on the couch and finds that she’s alone now in her resolution to stay out of this mess.

“So she was going to go anyway. And it’s clear that small groups don’t work, so unless you want her to disappear, too, we have to back her. We don’t have a choice.”

Christie hears ‘ _you_ don’t have a choice’, which means that Lori hears it, too. Shannon doesn’t _have_ to hear it; she can tell already that Christie feels guilty, that she feels as if she did the wrong thing. Nobody quite understands how much losing Abby has changed Christie- nobody but Shannon. Shannon, who clears her throat, and, as the straw that breaks the camel’s back, nods at Lauren.

“I’ll go with you.”

“Six of you will go,” Christie interrupts. “Six of you. Lauren, Shannon, Amy, Carli, A-Rod, and Becky’s in charge.”

“What about me?”

Kelley shifts in her spot, having recovered from the news that her friends and her roommate are alive and wanting to do her part to help. 

“Seven,” Christie amends, “seven of you. But you hide if and until Lauren needs you. He needs to think she trusts him enough to come alone.”

-

When the knock comes at their door the day of their secret mission, Kelley is the first to it, and for almost an entire half a second she lets herself think it might be Hope.

It’s not Hope.

The woman who’s standing on the doorstep is shorter than even Kelley, although not by much. She’s sweet-looking, and clean and civilian, a messenger bag over one shoulder and one of her chic little boots partially unzipped like she was in a hurry and didn’t bother to do it up all the way.

“Hi,” she offers, and the twang somehow doesn’t surprise Kelley at all.

“Can I help you?”

“I know I’m not supposed to know where this place is. I’m- I know Abby.”

The sound of Abby’s name makes Kelley recoil a little, and her reaction makes the visitor talk faster instead of slow down.

“I’m Sarah. I’m just wondering if- and I know you probably can’t really tell me anything? But I’d be really grateful if you could just, is Abby okay?”

Kelley doesn’t know what to say.

She’s heard of Sarah before; all of them have. Sarah is Abby’s. She blinks, struggling to answer, but the truth is that she doesn’t _know_. She doesn’t know where Abby is, or if she’s even alive. Until about five hours ago she wasn’t sure _she_ wanted to be alive. 

“We don’t know anything,” she says, eventually, closing the door behind her, “I’m sorry. Do you want to come in?”

Sarah shakes her head, and Kelley sticks her hand out standing up straighter in an attempt to make a good impression. 

“I’m Kelley.”

Sarah shakes her hand, but she’s solemn,and Kelley redirects at the end of the handshake to turn it into a hug. For a long moment Sarah doesn’t hug back, but then she does, rubbing Kelley’s back like she knows the hug isn’t for her, exactly.

“There’s four of them gone,” Kelley says, and Sarah squeezes her. 

Ashlyn was right: grief unites people. It’s something Kelley hasn’t been able to clearly put into words until now, but that’s what it is, it’s the grief that brings them together, and the grief is only possible through love. If Sarah didn’t love Abby, and if the team didn’t love Abby and Alex and Hope and Tobin, they wouldn’t have bothered to grieve.

“My best friends,” she adds, for clarity’s sake, but it hitches in her throat because she’s crying. 

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

They pull back, and Kelley shakes on unsteady legs for a moment. Sarah probably won’t see Abby again. And Kelley doesn’t expect to see Tobin or Alex again. But for now that’s okay, in the same way that Kelley’s awareness of her own mortality is okay. It’s okay because it has to be. You can’t be anything but okay with the fact that you’re eventually going to die, because there _is_ nothing else. It’s inevitable.

The only thing to do is to keep going.

“If we find her, I promise that you’ll know.”

-

For a long few moments Lauren is convinced she’s been set up for an ambush, or stood up completely.

The cop appears from the shadows just as she’s about to turn and call to the rest of them to leave, and he startles her so badly that she immediately tenses into a defensive position. He sticks up his hands and grins at her, a flash of white under the streetlights that makes her stomach flip.

“I come in peace.”

“Don’t scare me like that,” she says, but she’s laughing, because he’s funny and because she _likes_ him, no matter how much she wishes she didn’t.

“Sorry. Can’t help it. Black guy alone in the middle of the night.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she says, and he laughs.

“Of course not. If I thought it was I wouldn’t joke about it. I never actually told you my name- I’m Jrue. Holiday.”

“Officer?”

“Not right now.”

He’s charming, and she has to remind herself that’s a dangerous thing, not a good one. A-Rod can hear it all, but she sees no reason to be concerned yet, so she lets the rest of them stay in the dark, feeling all the while as if she’s overhearing something she shouldn’t. Kelley taps her fingers nervously against the brick until Becky reaches over to stop her with a gentle hand on her wrist, and then she murmurs an apology guiltily and Becky leaves her hand there because she knows Kelley needs it.

Tobin and Alex and the others could be yards away.

“You don’t have to tell me your real name,” Jrue says, because of course he does, “I understand you don’t want to compromise yourself. Although I do appreciate getting to properly see your face this time.”

Lauren blushes, glad for the cover of night, forcing herself to remain as blase’ as possible. She’s not here to get a date.

“Lauren,” she offers, but no last name, and he takes it graciously, extending a hand to shake. “Can you really help us?”

“Yeah. I was undercover down there, so I met them. The tall one with short hair likes getting herself into trouble, huh?”

It certainly sounds like Abby, but Lauren controls herself, clearing her throat a little, sorry to have to question him but knowing that she must, especially with Becky twelve feet away.

“I’m...I’m gonna need proof. Proof that you really met them. As much as I’d like to be able to just take your word for it and believe that they’re alive.”

He’s come prepared for this; she can tell when he digs in his pocket and immediately produces a headband. Pink. Alex’s.

Kelley has to stifle a noise in her shoulder, and Becky squeezes her arm, and A-Rod wishes she could stop hearing what’s being said because she’s afraid of what comes next.

“The gang wants to use them as leverage with the force, with the government. They want money. A lot of money. More than the government is willing to pay for a bunch of rogue superhero women they don’t understand who might pose a threat to the infrastructure.”

“We’re not a threat.”

“I wouldn’t be helping you if I believed you were.”

-

“We might not get out,” Alex says. Her voice jerks Abby back into wakefulness, but not Tobin, who’s nestled into a blanket, haphazard and resting partially against Hope’s outstretched legs. The room gets cold enough at night that the four of them, more often than not, end up sleeping close together; Tobin’s the only one who manages to sleep regularly. None of them realize that Tobin’s _not_ asleep.

“Don’t say that.”

“I don’t even know how long we’ve been down here. Does anyone?”

Nobody answers her. Tobin knows it’s been two weeks; two days since the friendly man disappeared.

“They’re going to take us out of here eventually, once the police decide we’re worth the money.”

“And if they don’t?”

“They will.”

-

Lauren hands over the headband and it’s the only thing Christie needs to make her decision. She looks up at her team- at her family- gathered, tired and broken but full of hope they haven’t had for weeks- and clenches her fist around the proof.

“I’m going to need two volunteers to stay behind. We move out tomorrow night. Get some sleep, hydrate, try not to worry. We’re gonna bust them out of there or die trying.”

-

The gunshots wake them.

Abby startles. Her leg throbs when she gets to her feet. Alex grabs Tobin’s hand, squeezing it until they both hurt, and Tobin angles herself to face the door so that Alex is, once again, behind her. Abby shoulders in front of them both, and Hope grabs her by the elbow to keep her from actually going _to_ the door.

“We’re okay,” Tobin says, but it’s empty. 

Empty until they hear a voice they recognize.

“To the left,” Lauren calls, and she sounds as if she’s only a few feet away- so close that Tobin lurches for her, for the door, dragging Alex with her into Abby’s back.

-

“Lauren!”

Abby’s voice tells her she’s heading the right direction, but more than that it tells her that Abby’s alive- that Jrue was telling the truth. Behind her, Ashlyn follows with one of the assault rifles from the downed guards, and behind her is Christie, and behind Christie is Kelley.

In that order they skitter into the room where their friends have been held captive for two weeks. That’s when the order disappears.

Christie has to get on her tiptoes to hug Abby properly but she does it, and Abby leans down and cries into her shoulder. Lauren picks Tobin up and spins her in a hug that leaves them both laughing, and Ashlyn goes to Alex, and Kelley hugs Hope so hard that Hope has to bend over to keep from hurting her neck.

Kelley pulls back and stares at Hope for almost a full thirty seconds before she grins and starts to cry all at once. It’s incongruous and Hope is afraid of it but she doesn’t have time to be before Alex and Tobin have sandwiched Kelley and taken Kelley away from her. Abby’s the only one with duct taped wrists, and even though she winces when Ashlyn rips it off, she immediately offers a hug in retribution.

“Let’s get you guys home,” Christie says, smiling through unshed tears, and Hope’s never wanted anything more in her life.

-

Jrue meets her in the same place again, and this time she’s allowed to go alone, and this time she lets his smile do funny things to her insides without trying to fight it.

“You got them,” he says, and she laughs, “it’s all over the news.”

“Your supervisors would be disappointed in you.” She’s flirting now, a little, but he’s still smiling at her so she doesn’t tone it down, “In cahoots with the enemy.”

“You’re not my enemy,” he replies, stepping a little closer, “do you wanna be?”

“I don’t know. What am I?”

“My date to the next Nets game?”

He grabs her hands then. It feels familiar and she doesn’t fight that, either, just pulls him in and looks up at him through her eyelashes, watching him watch her, working up the comprehension to understand what he’s said and to answer him appropriately.

“Only if you promise you’re not asking because I healed your gunshot.”

“I’m asking because you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met. But the gunshot thing probably helped a little. And the attitude.”

“You’re gonna have to meet me here again. My boss won’t like if you come knocking.”

“Friday at seven?”

She leans into his chest, her fingers still clutched between his palms.

“I’ll do what I can.”

-

“We can’t hook up anymore.”

Hope says it partially because she really believes it’s true, and partially because being back has thrown her for a loop. And it’s been three hours.

Three hours, and a shower, and when she’d stumbled out of the steam into her bedroom she had realized her bed was gone, and the one left held Kelley, waiting for her. Waiting the way that Hope imagined she’d been waiting for two weeks, only instead of the way she remembers, Kelley’s hair is down, and her eyes are red-rimmed from crying, and her freckles stand out on her cheeks and her forearms, and Hope can’t help but wonder if those extend elsewhere.

“Okay,” Abby says, because it is. Because she respects Hope now, and likes her too much to fuck around with her, and because she knows.

“Okay?”

“Yeah. We’re cool.”

“I mean it.”

Abby laughs.

“I know.”

And when they’re done with that final little goodbye makeout, when Abby is done licking her way along Hope’s jaw and Hope is done letting it happen, they’re _really_ done.It’s not an ending as much as it is a beginning- the ending of their tryst, and the beginning of a friendship that means more to them than easy sex ever could.

-

Abby gets special leave from Christie- a night at the longest- and doesn’t have to explain why. 

She does need a beer first, though. 

She only drinks a quarter of it and lets the rest of it dampen her palms with condensation. Mostly she needs it to get the nerve up, because it’s been years since she saw Sarah properly and something about knowing that Sarah’s bothered to keep up with her makes her nervous. She tries to check the phone book to see if Sarah still lives where she did before but the pages are too thin and no matter _how_ gentle she tries to be they rip under her fingertips, so she leaves five dollars on top of it to pay for a replacement and leaves without finishing her drink.

She loiters outside Sarah’s apartment for ten minutes before she gets up the guts to ring the buzzer, and the sound of Sarah’s voice knocks the breath out of her for just long enough that it’s as if she’s ding-dong-ditching.

“Hello?”

She chokes on it, but she gets it out- “It’s, it’s me.”

She can hear Sarah come down the stairs and squares her shoulders before the door opens; she doesn’t even get a good look before Sarah launches at her and winds her arms around Abby’s neck. 

“I watched the news,” is the first thing she says, and Abby laughs, leaning over a little so that Sarah can hug her properly and she can press her face into Sarah’s neck.

“You shouldn’t.”

“You always said that.”

“I still say it.”

Now it’s Sarah’s turn to laugh, and Abby’s relieved neither of them are crying when she pulls back. Abby knows better than to think she’ll ever mention the photograph to Sarah- the one that Hope probably still has. She has the real thing, right now, and that’s what matters.

“How am I supposed to know what’s going on if I don’t?”

It’s a dig at her, Abby knows it, but she shrugs it off a little because she knows there’s no weight behind it.

“They’re always wrong, anyway. Can I come inside, or have you stopped adopting strays?”

She hasn’t, as it turns out. There used to just be one dog but there are two now, the second one even more ugly-cute than the first. Abby crouches down and sticks out her hand for it to sniff.

“That’s a cat thing,” Sarah says, when the bulldog sniffs Abby’s hand and then licks it.

“I’m afraid to pet it.”

“Him. Kingston. You’re not gonna hurt him.”

“Do you still have Tex?”

She’s surprised she remembers his name- at the sound of it the pug comes skittering in from the kitchen and she can tell he remembers her because he barks around her until Kingston gets bored and waddles under the coffee table to flop onto the carpet.

She uses the distraction to ask Sarah the real question she’s been meaning to.

“Is this still his little bachelor pad?”

She knows that Sarah knows what she’s asking, because she can hear it when Sarah shifts her weight a little. 

“I didn’t bother with anyone else.”

Abby gets to her feet. Sarah’s half-sitting half-leaning against the arm of the couch, watching her; her hair is shorter than it was the last time they were together like this and Abby decides that she likes it. She likes _Sarah_. She always forgets how much that takes over everything else until Sarah’s there in the flesh.

“Why not?”

She’s not sure what she wants to hear. Sarah shrugs a little bit, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth that’s still somehow sad enough that Abby can’t smile back.

“It wouldn’t have been fair to them that I couldn’t stop thinking of you.”

Abby’s hand shakes when she reaches for Sarah’s and pulls her so that they’re front to front. She wants to say that Sarah should let it go, but she can’t. She’s been trying to run from this for too long to try and hide from Sarah what they both know is true: they can’t get away from this. 

Abby will always find her way back, and Sarah will always be waiting.

Sarah tilts up and Abby leans down and they kiss, chaste and shy like it's the first time. Even then it's too much and Abby is afraid she's going to get carried away, so she starts to pull back, but Sarah pops up on her toes and follows. A few seconds later and Abby convinces herself to break the kiss.

"I wish you wouldn't wait for me."

"No you don't."

She doesn't but she has to say it, has to know that she's given Sarah a choice. This time she initiates the kiss, wrapping an arm around Sarah's waist, careful how much pressure she exerts, and when Sarah's arms go around her neck she lets the kiss deepen. There's something about this, about being with Sarah, that nothing else lives up to. As much as being with Hope had been exciting there's a connection with Sarah that Abby knows she'll never have with anyone else. 

Sarah redirects to breathe against Abby's neck, and Abby closes her eyes. 

"How long do you have?"

"Overnight."

"Wow."

It's not even sarcastic, it's a breath and it's Sarah not knowing what to do with the time they've been given, and Abby lets herself wonder what they could be if there were no restrictions at all. She pulls away to bring her hand to Sarah's face, but she's careful, she's straining not to let herself be anything but gentle. She knows how easily she can cause harm. Sarah's eyelashes flutter; Abby swipes her thumb across the arch of her cheekbone and remembers the pages of the the phone book ripping under her fingers. 

"Have you eaten?"

Abby nods. 

"What do you want to do?"

She doesn't answer, just leans down to kiss away the implications of Sarah's question. 

-

They don’t sleep together. What they both really want is more than that, more than sex, so when Sarah takes her to bed Abby knows the drill. It might be months after the last time they did this, but everything about it is familiar; Abby bunny-hops out of her jeans and Sarah laughs and when they find each other under the blankets Sarah folds into Abby’s arms like her missing piece.

They’re quiet because there doesn’t seem to be much to say. Abby doesn’t need to know the details of Sarah’s life. Knowing the details of Sarah’s life without her would just make her more tempted to come and visit when she doesn’t have permission, and telling Sarah the things she sees will only make Sarah worry about her more.

Inevitably, the question comes. Abby expects it. She knows Sarah expects the same answer.

“When will I see you again?”

Abby sighs, and Sarah slips a hand under her shirt, skating fingertips over her back.

“You know I can’t tell you that.”

“I wish you could.”

“I know.”

There’s a few more minutes of silence between them, where Abby tries to ignore the traffic sounds and imagines they have a house somewhere quiet, somewhere West, with a yard and a crime rate so low the police can handle it and she doesn’t have to. Sarah’s hand slides up her back and Abby draws in a breath.

“You know I don’t resent you for what you do.”

She _doesn’t_ , really, and it’s something that she worries about every time she leaves, so instead of answering she just swallows, hooking her knee behind Sarah’s to pull them closer, so that eye contact won’t be a problem.

“Abby, I don’t.”

“Okay.” 

-

“Sarah? You awake?”

An affirmative murmur against her neck, and Sarah’s hand shifts under Abby’s shirt.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

-

Kelley is surprised that Hope doesn’t ask her to sleep on the floor or something, and when the bed dips with Hope’s weight she almost decides to go sleep in Tobin and Alex’s room again, except that it’s _their_ first night back, too, and she doesn’t want to walk in on anything or interrupt them or offend Hope, so she just stays as close to her edge of the bed as she can and tries not to breathe in the smell of Hope’s shampoo.

Hope yawns, stretching, completely unaware of Kelley’s discomfort and too glad to be back in civilization to think about anything other than her own relief.

“Tell me again what happened to my bed?”

“We moved a bunch of stuff around. It’s a long story but I, we’ll put it back tomorrow.”

Kelley really doesn’t want to go into the fact that she was the one who asked for Hope’s bed to be moved. All she can do it pray that nobody _else_ will mention it. She can’t stop herself from continuing no matter how much she wishes she could, and she knows how stupid it is before she says it but she says it anyway: “It’s not too late if you want me to see if I can maybe switch with HAO for the night.”

Hope blinks at her, uncomprehending.

“Why would you do that?”

“So,” Kelley swallows, blushing, “you can stay with Abby.”

Hope purses her lips and Kelley wants to close her eyes and pretend she doesn’t see it. Now, though, Hope is starting to put the pieces together, and as each one clicks into place she has to bite back a smile because Kelley already looks like she’s going to run away.

“Why would I want to do that?”

She knows the answer, she just wants to hear Kelley say it. Kelley knows that, too, but she plays into Hope’s hands, inevitably, because she needs her answer.

“Because you guys are,” she swallows again and nods like that’s the end of her sentence, and Hope laughs, propping her head up on one hand. Her tank top gaps at the shoulder when she does and she sees Kelley’s gaze dip before she can right it.

“We’re not anything. We _were_ hooking up.”

“Oh.”

Kelley’s not sure if she’s relieved or not. She is, primarily, but she’s also really concerned, because Hope’s looking at her funny and the longer she stays silent the weirder she feels.

“So you stopped? I mean, why did you?”

“We kind of figured out while we were kidnaped by domestic terrorists that we were better off as friends. We ended up liking each other and it made the whole sex thing seem kind of weird.”

“Oh,” Kelley offers, again. She wonders for a moment whether Hope only has sex with people she hates, then decides that’s a road she really shouldn’t go down while they’re a foot apart lying in the same bed. Hope runs a hand through her hair and Kelley can’t _not_ smell her stupid coconut shampoo. 

Hope feels wicked, like this. She knows that what she’s trying to do is stupid, but she likes the way Kelley looks at her. It’s not like Abby did- it’s different, it’s kind of a mixture of awe and attraction and it’s way more fun to play with already.

“Yeah, no, that position is open. Why, are you interested?”

Kelley blinks, then croaks out a “what?” before too much time has passed. If she weren’t on her side already she’d think she might pass out.

“It hadn’t occurred to me,” she lies, her mouth dry and her hands clammy. Hope leans in a little, smirking dangerously.

“But aren’t you just a little bit curious?”

“I- I don’t know.”

“Don’t you want to find out?”

Kelley doesn’t answer. Hope’s too close for her to speak because if she does she’s afraid she’ll kiss her. 

Hope thinks that silence is a question, so she answers it, reaching out with the hand that’s not holding her up to trace the outline of Kelley’s bicep through her shirt. Kelley’s breath hitches.

“If you’re curious?”

Hope’s surprised when Kelley lurches forward and kisses her, but that’s part of the fun of it. Abby was always predictable and Kelley isn’t yet; Hope brings her hand from Kelley’s arm to her cheek and kisses back, just barely able to manage past her smile. The angle’s awkward, but they manage, especially once Kelley shifts forward into Hope’s space and their knees knock together.

Kelley knows she’s being overeager, and she knows she can’t chalk it all up to surprise. She’s wanted this for weeks now, weeks of watching Hope from afar with Abby, and then up until the past few days she was convinced Hope was _dead_ and as much as she’d like to think she’s smart enough to say no, she’s not. Hope’s just playing and Kelley knows it.

Hope knows that she knows it. She also knows that she’s eventually going to feel like shit about it, but at the moment, especially because Kelley’s the one who started it, she’s letting that go. 

“What if it gets weird?”

“What?”

“What if I like you?”

Kelley has to pull away to say it, both her hands still on Hope’s face. Hope grabs her around the waist and rolls so that Kelley’s straddling her.

“I don’t know why you would.”

She initiates the kiss this round, because she’d like to keep Kelley quiet. It works for a minute or two, a minute or two of Kelley settling, resting her weight against Hope’s pelvis, and Hope rushes it and slides her tongue past Kelley’s lips a moment too soon.

“I do, though. I mean, we’re friends, so obviously I like you.”

“You’re overthinking this.”

Truthfully she probably isn’t, but Hope doesn’t want to hear it because if she’s going to feel bad about this she’d like to at least be able to get a lay in first. Kelley puffs air through her lips and it’s so cute that Hope wants to kiss her- so she does, sliding her hands up under Kelley’s shirt and over her back.

Kelley’s a little hesitant until Hope flips them, and then, with the attack plan out of her hands, she starts to warm up to it. To Hope especially. It doesn’t at all surprise her that Hope is dominant and she more-than-willingly just goes with it, letting Hope get rid of her shirt and pressing her hips up. That seems to be some kind of a switch, because Hope completely loses all pretense of fooling around and shoves a hand down the front of Kelley’s shorts.

Kelley gasps into Hope’s mouth, then grins, then laughs a little, purely because this is a ridiculous situation but one she’s been trying not to play out in her head for weeks. Hope doesn’t bother trying to read into it; she can tell that Kelley wants what she’s giving and that’s enough to keep her going.

For a while, anyway.

She wants to do this right, though, for some inexplicable reason (maybe she likes Kelley, and maybe she likes Kelley more than she wanted to, but she’s certainly not going to _admit_ it), so she takes her hand back after a minute and sits up, taking Kelley with her.

She leaves a hand on Kelley’s lower back, and ignores the look (of awe?) on Kelley’s face so that she can look at the rest of her instead. The freckles don’t stop at her face. There’s a smattering across her chest, or at least what Hope can see that’s not covered by her bra. She assumes there are freckles all the way down across Kelley’s abdomen, too. She’ll check later.

For now, she slips her free hand into Kelley’s hair (it’s soft and thick and there’s definitely a part of her that just wants to run her fingers through it for a while) and uses that hand to tilt Kelley’s head back. Kelley shudders, surprised at how safe she feels despite her vulnerable position. That shudder gives way to a moan when Hope kisses her neck, and that moan just urges Hope on, so she keeps at it, dragging her teeth over Kelley’s pulse point and soothing the spot with a swipe of her tongue. Kelley jerks in her arms a little, tries to lift her head, but Hope keeps her fingers firmly in Kelley’s hair, holding her in place. She won’t be done until Kelley’s practically liquid in her arms and there’s a mark left behind that Kelley will have to scramble to explain in the morning.

Eventually Kelley is sprawled out on her back again, and Hope's kissing down her stomach- but Hope pauses when she gets to something that particularly interests her. A birthmark on Kelley's right side, just above her hip. Hope touches it with her index finger, and Kelley shudders under her, moaning her name quietly.

It's the first of many times that Kelley makes that exact noise. Hope is sure of that.

-

In her dream Alex dies.

It’s the shooting that takes her, but it’s Tobin who feels the bullets, as if she’s the one being shot. In the dream Alex crumples to the ground and Tobin can do nothing to help her. In the dream she rushes to Alex’s side and her hands are sticky with blood and it feels like it’s her fault.

Tobin wakes with a start, and the weight of Alex’s calf against her knee doesn’t comfort her like it should. She takes a deep breath, painfully aware of how fast her heart is beating and the sweat she’s broken out in, and there’s only a few moments she can take before she has to get up and risk waking Alex.

Alex does wake up, once the weight of Tobin’s body leaves the bed. She can tell it’s something a little more than insomnia by the way Tobin sits up and wrings her shaking hands, but she doesn’t say anything at first. She’s not sure if she should fake sleep or try to comfort, so she does neither- she just watches when Tobin stands up and peels her shirt off. Now Alex is glad she didn’t say anything, because Tobin clearly thinks she’s asleep and that offers her a moment or two to admire the sloping curve of Tobin’s shoulders and the light that plays off of the sheen of sweat across her back.

There’s only a heartbeat before Tobin leans into the dresser, hands flat and arms stiff, and then Alex knows it’s time to get up and do something.

Tobin hears her move, but she can’t. She can’t move at all, even when Alex’s arms wind around her from behind and she feels the press of Alex’s chin on her shoulder. She’s afraid to turn around, mostly because of the dream, because she’s afraid of what Alex will see. She doesn’t want the nightmare to come to light. She can’t imagine how Alex managed her nightmares for that long.

“We’re safe.”

“Safe as we’re ever gonna be,” Tobin agrees, but the flatness to her voice makes Alex kiss her shoulder. As sick as it is she’s almost grateful for this, for this opportunity to be the strength in their relationship- she feels like Toin has had to support her for too long, like Tobin’s had to deal with her nightmares and her crying and she hasn’t been ale to give anything in return.

She presses forward and hugs Tobin against her, so that her front is pressed against Tobin’s bare back. There’s only Tobin’s briefs and bra left, and Alex’s t-shirt and her underwear- they’ve been more naked than this together but this feels different from the beginning. Like she knows they’re going to go further tonight than they ever have.

Tobin turns and whispers the first ‘I love you’ into the skin below Alex’s ear. When nothing happens she says it again, more sure of herself, her lips brushing Alex’s earlobe. Starting means its hard to stop, so before she can let Alex return it she admits that she's scared, and Alex says she knows, and then says 'I love you' a few times before they stop being coherent and start speaking with their hands instead. 

Tobin's skin is cool and damp. Alex kisses away her tears and Tobin lets her, and Tobin slides a hand under her shirt and Alex lets her, and in the darkness they part to undress before they come together again in a heap of skin and sheets.

It's better like this. It's better like this where Alex has something to give and Tobin has something to need, some comfort that she can only get from getting as close to Alex as possible, from feeling the heartbeat and the throb of Alex's pulse. 

She doesn't dream after that, good or bad.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a lot of information, and no time to understand it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: violence? i think that's it! be careful!!

Abby wakes to Sarah's hand pushing her bangs from her forehead, and to the taste of coffee and sugar on Sarah's lips, bitter and sweet. It's not light out yet; Sarah's illuminated only by her alarm clock. To her Abby is beautiful like this- always, but especially like this, the way Sarah knows nobody else ever gets to see her. Gentle and quiet. Because Abby _can_ be gentle. It's one of her best kept secrets, something she can tap into only when it's Sarah she's touching. And touch she does, pulling Sarah down to straddle her. As always, it's too easy for them to lose themselves in it. Sarah kisses Abby the way she wakes up every morning wishing she could, slow and deep, framing Abby's face in her hands. Abby falls back completely onto the bed, exhaling when her hands come in contact with the suggestion of a curve, where Sarah's ribs become her hips. 

"What time is it?"

Sarah kisses her again before she answers. 

"Six."

"I have to go."

"Don't," Sarah breathes, "Abby, it's been so long, please."

And even though she knows it's not what Sarah's asking, Abby gives all she can give, reaching beneath Sarah's shorts and between her legs. 

-

Tobin wakes to an empty bed.

When she reaches over, the indent Alex left behind is still warm, and as she starts to wake up properly she recognizes the sound of the shower and Alex’s voice.

Alex is singing.

It’s that Hall and Oates song, the one anyone their age with hippie parents grew up singing, about dreams and love and change. Tobin sits there for a minute or two, listening to Alex repeat the same verse- probably the only verse she remembers- “On a night when bad dreams become a screamer, when they're messin' with the dreamer, I can laugh it in the face, twist and shout my way out and wrap yourself around me, cos I ain't the way you found me and I'll never be the same". 

Maybe it's less that's the verse Alex remembers and more that it's the most relevant. Either way Tobin grins, because although Alex isn't a good singer exactly and the whole thing strikes her as really cute. Most things do, with Alex, but this especially. It makes it easier once Tobin realizes she's naked from the waist down and wearing Alex's sweatshirt alone. 

She doesn't remember feeling like this after sex. When she had done it before it'd been at college so everything was sort of rushed and secretive and hasn't meant much. All it had done for her was cement the idea that she was more than probably gay. This is different, she feels complete. Sort of warm and fluid and...just happy. 

Some of that is probably Alex's singing. 

By the time Tobin gets dressed and starts to leave, Alex has stopped singing. She's pondering turning the water off, but it feels too good for her to get out right away, so for a moment she just tilts her head up into the spray. When she closes her eyes she remembers the weight of Tobin atop her and her smile grows a little wicked. 

Downstairs Tobin watches, unnoticed, as Kelley explains to Hope her theory on why the bumblebees are dying out. Something about it is so familiar- the way Kelly's sitting on the counter, Hope on a barstool; the way Kelley's attention rests entirely on Hope. 

So entirely, in fact, that Tobin goes unnoticed until Alex steps into the kitchen and she starts singing at her. It's a bad parody of bad singing, and Alex blushes and laughs and heads over to kiss her good morning. Kelley stares at them, slowly coming to a realization, and when Alex pulls away she starts to laugh. Hope looks at Kelley, then at the other two, and decides there has to be some kind of inside joke she wasn’t a part of.

It’s fun to watch, at any rate.

“Oh my God,” Kelley manages through her giggling, “You guys finally did it.”

Alex turns to answer her- trying to come up, if she can, with something witty- but Tobin beats her to it, slinking an arm around her waist.

“Yes. We finally did it. We finally played an entire game of Monopoly without Alex rage-quitting.”

“Tobin!”

It’s worth the shove away, though, especially because Alex is laughing. From a few feet away Hope finishes off her yogurt and asks if Monopoly is code for gay sex.

Kelley is hysterical, laughing so hard that she has to grip the counter to keep from toppling over. Alex is stricken for a moment, then starts to laugh, too, so it’s up to Tobin to answer.

“It sounds so much less romantic when you say it like that.”

Hope makes a face, but it’s clear she’s only teasing, and Tobin loves that she feels comfortable enough to do it. Something about facing certain death in an underground jail cell has brought them closer together. It’s nice.

“You’d better hope it wasn’t as long _or_ as boring as Monopoly is.”

“Monopoly’s not boring with _me_ ,” Alex interjects, and this time when the laughter happens it involves all four of them.

The dishes still have to be done, and Alex notices at about the same time Hope does. The other two have scattered- Tobin to shower, Kelley to God knows where- and Alex, more than just noticing the plates, sees her chance to have a conversation she knows needs to be had. She’s still a little intimidated by Hope, but she’s got to say _something_ , because now she knows that most of what she feels is irrational. 

Hope’s got bigger problems.

With Kelley gone she can breathe a little again, but that’s both a blessing and a curse, because it means that she can think and its thinking that she’s trying to avoid. She’s thinking so hard about trying not to think that when Alex pulls up next to her at the sink and reaches for one of the plates that needs drying, Hope jumps. Like she’s been shocked.

“I didn’t mean to startle you or anything-”

“It’s fine, you’re fine. I’m out of it.”

She can handle the three plates all on her own and she knows that Alex knows it, so she doesn’t say a word. Instead she lets Alex take the wet plate and starts scrubbing another, and tells herself the best course of action is not to talk. Things are different now between them, different enough that they’re on shakily equal ground, and Hope’s not really sure how to talk to someone who she’s spent so much time irritated at for no good reason. At least with Abby she feels somewhat justified. Alex is just a kid, just a kid who’s not great under pressure, so Hope forgives her. She just can’t _say_ it.

Alex clears her throat, focusing hard on her hand and the rag in it. 

“I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot.”

Hope laughs a little, and Alex thinks it might be a nervous laugh. For a moment it’s like Hope’s not going to answer, until she _does_ and Alex feels a pang of panic like maybe it would have been better had Hope been mute.

“Both feet, I’d say.”

Alex swallows.

“Yeah. It’s, I’m not great at controlling myself when I get panicked by something. Cause of how I figured out my powers in the first place. You scared me because nobody warned me I’d be running into a new power any second and I was a jerk.”

Hope puts the plate down and shifts at the sink so that she’s facing Alex, which has the intended effect: Alex stops drying and stops talking and gives Hope a look that’s not far from the one a guilty dog would give.

“If this is about Kelley, don’t beat around the bush.”

It’s Alex’s turn to be startled, and she is; she makes this clear by the way her eyes get wide and her mouth drops open before she straightens up and says, somewhat defensively, “I was just trying to apologize.”

“Mhm. You’re forgiven.”

But Hope knows this isn’t over. She _doesn’t_ know that Alex’s original intention wasn’t to talk about Kelley, but at the very least she can tell that by now, whether pre-planned or all of a sudden, Alex is going to breach the subject She’s not sure whether the catch in her throat is nervousness or irritation, but irritation lets her keep her dignity, so she decides to call it that, popping her hip and propping her hand on it.

Alex gets nervous just from the way Hope looks at her and almost makes the decision to leave right then and there. She thinks of Kelley, then, and changes her mind, working her jaw.

“She really likes you.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“And,” Alex pauses, tries to think about how to keep Hope from being offended, and decides- probably from Abby’s influence- to reach out and touch Hope’s wrist, which backfires because the look she gets when she does makes her recoil, “look, I’m not saying you don’t like her. Because maybe you do. But if you don’t, just don’t string her along or anything, cause Kelley deserves-”

Hope cuts her off so violently that Alex reaches to clutch at the sink, her heart hammering. 

“Better! I know, okay? Doesn’t anyone think I fucking know that? That Kelley deserves better than me?”

For a moment Hope maintains her righteous frustration, and then she slips, lets go of it, and becomes embarrassed by her outburst. She turns back to the sink and rests her elbows on the ledge, covering her face with her still-wet hands, then realizes what she’s done and lifts her head again, more agitated than before. She focuses on the window instead of on Alex.

Alex isn’t sure whether to be terrified or profoundly sad.

She overcomes the first part with the help of Hope, whose tension shows she’s more than just angry. If she were angry she’d have maintained eye contact, and Alex knows it, so she reaches out again and touches Hope’s shoulder. Hope turns her head to look at the hand, as if she’s not sure what it is, and it occurs to Alex that people probably don’t touch her very often like this.

“Hope...”

“I don’t want any pity, either, okay? Just know that I know.”

“That wasn’t what I was going to say.”

Hope turns her head away again, and Alex fights the urge to take her hand back.

“You were thinking it. All of you were thinking it, even down in the tunnel. I’m not stupid.”

Alex stops fighting it and runs both hands through her hair.

“Will you please just listen for two seconds? I wasn’t thinking it. I just know that Kelley likes you enough that if you led her on and dropped her she’d be a wreck, and she’s my best friend. I don’t want that.”

She’s finally stood up for herself a little bit, and Hope’s impressed, under her layers of self-pity and frustration. It doesn’t occur to her even for a second that Alex might be lying- that Alex _was_ thinking it- but she also isn’t naive enough to think that Alex’s empathy extends to Abby. She lets out a breath and squeezes her eyes shut before she admits what she knows she’s not going to say to Kelley: “I don’t either.”

-

"How is she?"

Abby ups the treadmill's speed another notch. Anything to keep her legs moving fast enough to burn- to keep her mind off Sarah. She has to pant out her answer, which she can only hope makes it sound more dismissive than it is. 

"Fine."

Fine's not enough. Heather's more than aware that Abby doesn't want to talk about it, but if she knows Abby at all she knows that means it _has_ to be talked about. Abby's like a pressure cooker. Every once in a while someone has to remind her to let some of the steam out, no matter how scared she is to hurt someone because of it. 

"Oh, good. You haven't seen her in three years, and you probably won't for a few more, but at least she's fine. You've figured _that_ out."

Abby doesn't answer. She pounds the frustration out through her feet until the treadmill squeaks under her and she's glad for the fact that Tobin's doing pull-ups only yards away. It's obvious what HAO's trying to do; instead of a response Abby picks up the pace yet again. 

Like a true little sister Heather's reaction is to stop her treadmill and reach over to yank our Abby's emergency key so that _her_ treadmill also comes to an abrupt halt. Abby stumbles, catching herself on the arms of the machine, and takes a few harsh breaths before fixing her partner with a glare. 

"Talk."

"I'm busy."

Heather just stres until Abby breaks down, huffing out a breath and leaning forward, bracing her arms on the treadmill's monitor and leaning until her shoulders are up by her ears. 

"I don't really want to talk about it," she tries, knowing as soon as she speaks that HAO won't drop it. Finally, she gives in, standing straight and pushing her hair back. 

"It's complicated. It's- I think it's worse than not seeing her at all."

"For you or for her?"

There's no way for Heather to know for sure how hard her question has hit home, but the way Abby blinks, as if she's been hit, gives her some idea. Without answering Abby sighs and sinks to sit on the edge of the treadmill. Heather joins her, sitting closely enough that their legs press together, offering support in the only way she knows Abby will accept. 

"I wouldn't go back to her if it wasn't what she wanted. I've told her to move on, she just- she's stubborn."

"She loves you," Heather offers, and Abby doesn't seem to be able to decide whether to smile or grimace. In Heather's mind it's simple- if two people love each other they ought to try to be together- but it's clear things are more complicated than that. Most likely it's just Abby overcomplicating the situation; Heather remembers enough of college Psychology to realize Abby's only complicating things to avoid admitting that Sarah's 'it'. Or, more accurately, that _she_ is it for _Sarah_. Regardless. 

"You love her. That clearly hasn't changed, so how can you ask her to drop it if you won't?"

"So what am I supposed to do?"

Abby's outburst takes Heather by surprise, and she swallows, looking over her shoulder at Tobin, who, with her earbuds in, has moved on to doing sit-ups as if nothing out of the ordinary is happening at all. Whether or not she's actually noticed them is irrelevant; she won't mention it and Abby doesn't realize anyway. She takes a deep breath and tries again, increasingly desperate to hide how frustrated she actually is. 

"What am I supposed to do? See her once every couple of years? Is that it?"

"You're asking the wrong person."

It's a suggestion. A tacit suggestion, but still, Heather's giving Abby permission to do what she's been sure she needs to since she left Sarah's apartment. Something has to change, and the only person who can make that change isn't in the room. 

"She'll say no."

"I don't think that's a good enough reason not to ask."

-

It snows in mid-December, a week before Christmas.

Ali and Ashlyn have the first shift so they’re the only ones awake when it starts; Ashlyn is curled up half-asleep with all of her (wings included) under three separate blankets and her bare feet sticking out when Ali squeals and rushes to the window.

Ashlyn sits bolt upright thinking something awful has happened and twists uncomfortably on the couch to see Ali pressed against the window, breath fogging up the glass.

“Al? It’s just snow.”

This happens every time it snows, though, and Ashlyn never understands it. She thinks it might be a raven thing, but it makes Ali too happy for her to mention it. It’s cute, whatever it is, the way Ali sits and watches the snow. The way she gets when she gets like this is so _different_.

“I hope it sticks,” Ali says dreamily, and Ashlyn laughs, heading over to the window to wrap her arms around Ali’s waist from behind. Ali leans into her, tilting her head so that the back of it rests on Ashlyn’s shoulder, then turns a little to kiss Ashlyn’s jaw.

“Do you think it’ll stick?”

“I’m not a weatherman, A-bird.”

Ali giggles. Someone thunders down the stairs, and Ashlyn can tell it’s Kelley and Sydney without even looking, because they’re making similar noises to the ones _Ali_ made when _she_ noticed the snow. Ali twists in Ashlyn’s arms to see them, and Syd wolf-whistles at them while Kelley shoves the porch door open, letting all the cold air in.

Sydney squeals; Ashlyn jerks away from the door and loses Ali, who laughs at her.

“Christ, Kelley, close the fucking door!”

Instead of listening, Kelley, who hasn’t bothered to put anything on over her bare feet or t-shirt and shorts, turns back with a face-splitting grin.

“Can we have a snowball fight? Do you think anyone’d do it?”

“No way,” Syd says, at the same time Ashlyn says, “is that a joke?”

“ _I_ would,” Ali replies, reaching out to tug Kelley back inside and close the door, “but not until we all get bundled up.”

-

The snow sticks.

It gets to three inches before Christie gives the go-ahead and they all traipse out into the ‘yard’, the empty lot that protects them from the warehouse behind them. Even Hope and Carli go, wearing coats over coats and visible only by their poky red noses and squinted eyes.

Kelley opens fire immediately, on anyone within her range, and Lori gets roped into it with Megan, who declares war. If Lori bothered to really _help_ it would probably be unfair, but because she’s mostly a bystander (albeit a morally supportive one), it ends up more of a Kelley versus Megan fight that everyone else watches.

Watches until it gets out of control. Ali throws a snowball that catches Alex off the shoulder, and when Alex squeals it becomes a game to make her make that noise as much as possible. Lauren’s the first to get in on it, but as soon as she does, Shannon does, and Jill does, and after a few minutes most of the team is opening fire on Alex, who squeals and runs and ducks until she finds Tobin and hides behind her.

Tobin grins at them, charmingly willing to take an onslaught of snowballs if that’s what Alex wants, and because she does the rest of them lay off. Even Kelley, who has an armful just waiting, tosses a lame one at Tobin’s feet and turns away to stir up something else.

Only Abby’s left. She packs a snowball just as Alex peeks up over Tobin’s shoulder, and when Alex sees it she yelps and ducks again. Tobin raises her hands to shield her face, and Abby corrects them- “I just want to throw it! I’m not going to aim it, can I just throw it?”

Alex pokes up over Tobin’s shoulder again, and nods, and Abby tosses the snowball underhanded.

Hope is charmed by it. Mostly by Tobin willingly being Alex’s meat shield, but by the rest of it all, too, and even though she still has absolutely no inclination to get her own hands numb and icy, she’s definitely started to relax.

That lasts until something hits her shoulder and Carli skitters to the side. It’s not a surprise when Hope turns and sees Kelley grinning at her from a few feet away, or at least it shouldn’t be, but Hope’s heart jumps all the same. From the adrenaline, obviously. Not from the smile, and not from Kelley’s flyaway hairs or red cheeks and nose.

For a moment they just stand and stare at each other, Kelley grinning and Hope trying not to, and then Hope bends down, very slowly, and starts to pack snow.

Kelley squeaks and starts to run. Alex watches, still standing behind Tobin but resting her hands on Tobin’s shoulders now, and Abby laughs before anything’s even happened because she can see where it’s going. Kelley’s fast, but Hope’s just as fast and there’s not enough room for Kelley to outrun her straight, so Hope catches her trying to turn and tackles her around the waist with one arm. Truth be told Kelley knows she could have run a little longer, but she _wanted_ to be caught. Letting Hope win feels right.

Until Hope starts shoving snow down the collar of her jacket.

Kelley starts kicking, but Hope outweighs her by too much for her to be doing anything but flailing, unless she really wants to sock her roommate in the jaw. She doesn’t. Instead she picks up snow with her hands while Hope shoves more snow into her jacket and tosses it at Hope’s face, the only exposed part of her that’s easily reachable. The tossing becomes rubbing, like the snow is icing or whipped cream, and Hope stops shoving snow to grab Kelley’s hands and pin them to the ground, breathless from laughing.

That’s when they remember everyone else is still around. Alex is giggling into Tobin’s shoulder, and Tobin is grinning at them, but mostly everyone else seems sort of shocked, and Hope wants to disappear. It’s frightening enough that Alex knows how much she cares, but this little moment of vulnerability, this little moment where _everyone_ can see that Kelley’s more than just her roommate...it’s almost unacceptable.

Hope stands, dusting herself off, and Kelley joins her, and Hope mutters something about frostbite before she disappears back into the house, hiding her blush in the collar of her jacket.

-

“What was it like?”

“I bet she’s a pillow queen.”

Tobin nudges Alex’s back with her bare foot, nestled on her bed while Alex and Sydney sit on the floor beside it, questioning Kelley, who’s trying to put her clean clothes away. She’s an outrageous shade of pink, all the way up to her ears. 

Tobin’s not sure what ‘pillow queen’ means but she’s pretty sure it’s not a good thing.

“She’s not a pillow queen,” Kelley replies, fumbling with the v-neck in her hands, “she’s- I don’t know, she’s different than you’d think.”

“You have to give us details,” Syd says, leaning forward, “you’re the only one in this room that’s _thought_ about it at all. We don’t have your innermost fantasies at our disposal.”

Even Tobin has to laugh at the look on Kelley’s face. 

“How did it happen? Did she just jump you, or what?” 

Alex’s question makes Kelley pause, before she closes the drawer and turns around to lean back against the dresser. 

“No. We had to share a bed, because hers is still down in storage. And I asked her- we were talking about Abby, and she told me they stopped hooking up.”

“They certainly weren’t down in the tunnel,” Tobin says, trying to make a joke because Kelley just looks so sheepish. It falls flat. Nobody laughs.

“And she asked me why I was curious, and I...just kind of kissed her. And she sort of took it from there, as far as the...you know. Rest of it.”

The rest of it. She doesn’t say it explicitly, but it's pretty clear none of her friends thought things had gone _that_ far; the pillow queen joke had been just that- a joke. Nothing ever seems to move slowly here, though. Not for her. 

"I bet she tops," Sydney says, and Alex giggles, adding, "This is gross."

When Hope comes through the doorway they all fall silent. Even Kelley- who smiles but feels a rush of panic- doesn’t want to say a word, or even move, so it’s up to Tobin, who shuffles out of the room after shooting Hope a friendly grin. Once Tobin’s up the other two can follow, sheepishly, and although Hope isn’t sure exactly what the conversation was about she feels as though it’s a good bet they were talking about her.

-

“Sorry. I was trying to get them to shut up.”

“They’re going to talk,” Hope says, shrugging, “people talked with Abby, too. I don’t care.”

She does care. She cares a lot, actually, but Kelley looks so guilty that Hope can’t tell her. It’s not Kelley’s fault, anyway- any of it. Hope blames herself for not having enough restraint to avoid the hookup in the first place, blames herself for losing her cool and exploding at Alex, and certainly blames herself for being so distracted by Kelley that she didn’t think about what image she was projecting.

She’s not sure what it is about her Kelley likes, but she’s afraid of it.

“People don’t talk about Tobin and Alex,” Kelley says, a little indignantly, and Hope can’t hold back a little smile when she approaches, resting a hand on the dresser and threatening to pin Kelley to it with just her proximity. Kelley wants for it; she pushes her body forward a little bit but tries to be subtle, knowing all the while that Hope can easily see right through her.

“People don’t talk about Tobin and Alex because nobody’s wondering how good their sex is.”

It’s blunt. Hope means for it to be, because she likes watching Kelley’s face suffuse with color, likes hearing the little puff of breath that tells her Kelley’s trying to regain some control. She can’t keep from doing this no matter how much she wants to. There’s something about Kelley that just makes her lose sight of what she’s trying to do; all she wants to do when they’re within two feet of each other is touch Kelley as much as possible, even though she knows this is exactly the sort of thing that makes everyone so wary of her with Kelley.

She becomes a predator, and she hates it. She hates how much she loves that Kelley responds to her before they’ve even touched. 

“How good _is_ it?”

Kelley can see that Hope is far away, and all she can do is pray it’s not something she’s done. She tilts her head up, wishing she were taller, because it’s only by craning her neck she can manage to breathe against Hope’s lips and hope she’s being some shade of seductive. Really what she’s doing is cute, but it gets what she wants, because Hope leans down and kisses her, pressing their hips together and Kelley’s back into the dresser in the process.

“Better than anything anyone else is having.”

-

_“You have to have some idea what you want to do with your life.”_

_“I don’t **have** to have anything.”_

_A sigh, heavy and frustrated but without any malice behind it. She means well._

_“Don’t get defensive with me, I’m not Dad, okay? I just known you better than to think you’ve got no idea.”_

_“I wanna work for the government.”_

_The expected laugh never comes. It stops sounding irrational as soon as it’s clear that this is a sfe place, and of course it is- they’re two halves of a whole. If there’s anyone on Earth that won’t laugh at her, it’s her sister. Her twin._

 

-

Megan jerks awake so violently that it wakes Lori in the next bed over. She must have gasped, or something; she doesn’t have enough coherency yet to do anything but turn and look, grasping at the dream, afraid it’s going to fade away. It doesn’t- not like a normal dream. 

Because it’s _not_ a dream.

She doesn’t know how she knows. Probably the same way she knows who she used to work for and that she used to be an athlete. They’re not dreams, they’re memories.

“I have a twin,” she says, and Lori blinks at her.

“I have a twin sister. I worked for a top-secret government agency.”

“Are you Cleopatra, too?”

It has the intended effect. Megan laughs, rubbing her eyes, and shakes her head. She knows it doesn’t make sense, but she also knows she doesn’t have to explain it to Lori, because Lori already understands it. She didn’t really have to say it in the first place. Lori probably understood it before _she_ did. The comfort she gets from that is familiar, and now she knows why; Lori being able to literally read her mind reminds her of what it was like to have a twin.

“I didn’t remember her name. Or where I might be able to find her.”

Megan sounds miserable, so Lori gets out of bed and tries to make things seem a little lighter by moving around, by making it look like not all of her attention is required to process what Megan’s just told her. Megan waits; she can see what Lori’s doing and just wants to be acknowledged. Eventually she is.

“At least you remember her. That’s a start.”

Megan grins.

“You’re right.”

“Excuse me,” Lori pretends to reach for a camera, “could you say that again, for the record?”

-

“So do you need like, regular birdbaths?”

Ashlyn laughs. Ali smiles a little, because it’s Kelley and she doesn’t mind it coming from someone she knows is joking. On Kelley’s right, Tobin gets comically concerned.

“If you guys need something just tell us and we’ll get it.”

“We don’t take birdbaths,” Ali corrects, because Ashlyn seems content to let that rumor fly, “we take showers just like anyone else does. And _some_ of us are even conscious of making sure the drain is free from hair and feathers after.”

She’s jabbing at Ashlyn, who, despite the joke, is generally fairly clean, but it does what Ali’s hoping it’ll do- Kelley and Tobin bust out in giggles, and Ali turns her smile to the door just in time to see Megan come over with a bowl of Cheerios piled high.

About the moment they make eye contact Megan falters, almost as if she’s tripped on something. When she takes her seat the smile she had before has melted off a bit, and she looks confused, or in pain, maybe. Ali reaches over and rubs her shoulder before they even say good morning, and Megan’s sense of vertigo passes as suddenly as it came.

Rachael.

She thinks she’s said it out loud for a moment before Ali looks away, back to Ashlyn, and it’s not a particular moment that anything’s happening- just the way Ali’s face looks, just the eyes she makes at Ashlyn in the most mundane of breakfast moments- Megan has questions. Has she ever looked at anyone like that? Is there someone out there who loves her the way Ali loves Ashlyn, or even half so much?

Are there parents who've mourned her? A dog or a cat she's left behind? A _child_?

Well, not a child. She doubts there's a child. But the point still stands that she has no idea what she's left behind other than Rachael and a job she vaguely remembers as a disappointment. 

"You know," Kelley says, slowly, "I just realized- right this moment- that Megan's power could help her be the best prankster in the house."

Hearing her name, Megan jerks herself back into the present and manages a comeback: "Maybe I am. Maybe every time the shower turns suddenly cold, it's because I've turned the temp down. Maybe I watch you sleep."

"Sleep," Ashlyn says, "or, you know- _sleep_."

"I like to think she's not _that_ much of a pervert," Ali says, laughing, and her smile brings such a vivid vision of Megan's twin into view that she can hardly laugh along. 

-

"I know you're not about to ask me if you can visit again."

Abby flinches a little; Christie's too direct for this kind of thing to be easy on either of them. Instead of speaking right away she leans against the counter like it's a bar and not Christie's desk, and from the other side Christie looks at her and tries not to feel too betrayed. 

"Barnie goes once a month."

"You know that's not the same. Natalie doesn't know who Barnie is, she thinks she's in the Peace Corps or something. Sarah's dangerous."

Abby bristles, leaning back away from the counter, and Christie hastens to fix her mistake. 

" _She's_ not dangerous. I know that. But she knows too much about this for me to let you risk seeing her that often, Abby. Don't make me fight you on this. I'm trying to protect you."

"I don't need it."

Abby spits it out, but she's not fighting Christie so much as she's fighting the idea Christie represents. She knows that she's wrong and she knows her captain is right but it kills her. It kills her to think that when she was twenty three she'd chosen this over Sarah without imagining what she'd suffer. Christie sighs, reaching over the counter to touch Abby's arm. 

"I don't want to argue over this. I really don't. I need you. I can't let your relationship put you in danger."

"Even if I want it to?"

It's not a real question. It's a last-ditch effort, it's Abby grasping at straws, and in her heart she knows there was never any other choice for her to make. 

"You don't have a death wish," Christie says, smiling softly, "you just think you do."

-

His arm rests across her shoulders like they were made to fit together. 

She leans into him and blinks in the court lights, completely enthralled by the feeling of being normal. She's not Lauren Cheney right now. She's certainly not a superhero. She's just a girl on a date enjoying a game she doesn't particularly remember ever understanding. 

Jrue loves it, though. When she asks he tells her he played in college, that he was offered a contract with the Sixers but went to the force instead. She asks if he regrets it, and instead of the easy answer he gives her an honest one. 

"Sometimes. Sometimes, you know- like when I've been shot or my life is in danger- then I'll think to myself maybe I should have just stuck with sports."

After the game he buys her hot chocolate and insists on walking her most of the way back. 

"I can't let you figure out where we are," she tells him when she stops him sixteen blocks away, and for a moment he looks truly hurt. 

"It's not because you're a cop," she insists, "it's a universal thing."

"Me being a cop doesn't help."

It's true. She doesn't refute it because she can't. Instead she reaches up with a hand on the back of his neck and pulls him down for a kiss. He kisses her back earnestly, one of his hands catching in her hair, and she has to stop herself before the rush overwhelms her completely. When she does manage to stop herself, when she's looking up at him again, he's smiling. 

"Okay, I get it. Gotta keep your damsel out of the know so the damsel's not in distress."

Despite herself- despite the fact that she's essentially snuck out of the hotel to see someone she know nobody will approve of her seeing- Lauren smiles back. 

"Does that make me your Prince Charming?"

He lifts his hand theatrically, and, laughing still, she kisses his knuckles. 

"Only if you promise to come find me again. You know where I'll be."

"I promise."

-

From the beginning Ashlyn knows she’s making a mistake. It’s raining, cold but not cold enough to make it snow, and instead of waking Hope up for their shift Ashlyn goes out alone. She figure Hope’s been through enough lately- she deserves a sleep in. It’s just a walk around the block, anyway. Nothing dangerous.

Still she knows Ali would kill her if she found out.

They’re not used to being apart. Moving in with the hotel has given them a kind of freedom from each other that they haven’t had before, because until now all they’ve had is each other. Ashlyn’s never been able to depend on anybody but Ali. Now she’d like to think she might be able to depend on herself. It’s not that she loves Ali any less, not by a long shot, just that she wants to prove she’s responsible enough that Ali doesn’t have to babysit her. Responsible enough, in a sense, to _deserve_ someone like Ali.

The block is busy because it’s early morning and people are working- men of various shapes and sizes lifting boxes and driving trucks. Some women, too, but not many, and it strikes Ashlyn as interesting that even today it’s so polarized. She’s read plenty of history but never lived it, and for a few minutes she pretends she’s a researcher from the future studying the weird limbo of the early millenium. She’s caught in that daydream when the sound of something falling jars her out of it and forces her to pay attention.

A woman in front of her has dropped a box, still sealed, that looks awkward and clearly too heavy for her. She’s got to be in her late fifties. Her right arm is in a cast from the elbow to the wrist and it really doesn’t require much thought for Ashlyn to head over, shifting in her trenchcoat a little to make sure she’s well concealed.

“Do you need some help?”

It’s a little strange that the woman’s got sunglasses on so early in the morning, but Ashlyn supposes that out of the shade of the buildings it’s bright enough for them, maybe for someone with sensitive eyes. It’s not up to her to judge peoples’ dressing habits, anyway. She has bigger things to worry about, and although she can’t see the woman’s eyes to really _read_ her reaction, the smile kind of does it all on its own.

“I wish I could tell you ‘no’, dear, but the truth is I do. I don’t live far.”

She’s telling the truth. Just outside the packaging district where the hotel’s situated is a shitty residential area, and that’s where this woman leads them, through a winding alley that’s open to sunlight and a back door that makes Ashlyn glad she’s trained in self defense. Not that this woman could do much to her in hand-to-hand, but all the same, a comforting feeling.

The apartment is sparsely furnished and smells like breakfast Ashlyn hasn’t had yet. She sets the box down near the door and stands up straight, working out the crick in her back. 

“You should stay for breakfast.”

“My parents always taught me not to take food from a stranger,” Ashlyn says, but with a smile. It’s Ali who taught her that, obviously, not her parents, but she’s not going to say her girlfriend taught her a simple life skill. That’s not an easy thing to digest.

“I’m Judith.”

Ashlyn takes the offered hand. It’s cold and dry and she wonders if this is what parents’ hands are like, sort of distantly firm. Judith’s certainly the right age for her to imagine it- having a real mother, instead of a geneticist. 

“Ashlyn.”

“And now we’re not strangers, so you can help me eat my scrambled eggs.”

“I don’t eat eggs,” Ashlyn says, trying for apologetic, “I mean- I don’t eat poultry.”

“Why? Because of the wings?”

Ashlyn almost answers yes before she realizes what's happened and drops Judith's hand, flooded suddenly with adrenaline. She takes a step back, bristling, as Judith taps a temple. 

"Heat vision. One of the many pros to being mostly a machine."

Ashlyn's initial reaction is disbelief; she's sure she must have exposed herself in some way and doesn't for a moment think the claim is anything but a brazen lie. Her stance is squared and her hands clench into fists as she tries to decide whether or not to make for the door. 

"Oh, come on. They invented you with wings. You didn't think you were the first and only of their little experiments, did you?"

"No," Ashlyn says slowly, "but why should I believe you?"

"I escaped. Just like you did, because they'd decided I wasn't useful anymore and planned to kill me. Thing is, they made me just human enough to resist my own death."

"And machine enough to fool them?"

"Exactly."

Ashlyn works her jaw, keeping a wary distance between them. She's more than aware that Judith could easily be a cop plant, or an agency plant- someone to draw her out like a prey animal so they can trap her and torture her for information- but since nobody's busted down the door yet she's content not to push it. It's also possible Judith's a crazy person. 

But it's just as possible she's telling the truth. 

"Why'd you bring me here?"

She's serious; Judith- or at least the part of her that simulates humanity- seems not to be. 

"I made too much breakfast."

Ashlyn lets the silence between them speak for her, and Judith flips her sunglasses off, exposing the only proof anyone would need. 

Her right eye glints and shimmers. The pupil is rectangular, as if she's been in some sort of accident, or was born with a mutated cornea.

"Off switch," she says, nonchalantly, “convenient, right?”

“It’s not,” Ashlyn insists, “you wouldn’t just show me the fastest way to kill you. It’s too easy.”

Judith makes something like a smile, but in a sense Ashlyn can tell it’s not genuine, not quite there all the way, and it makes her shudder.

“I’d kill you before you killed me.”

“Is that why I’m here?” Ashlyn struggles to keep her voice level, but her hands are clenched into fists again, and she’s trying to figure out how to take a few steps toward the door without being too obvious. Somehow it seems as if letting Judith know she’s afraid might be a bad move. A worse move than following her into a building in the first place. “Am I here so you can kill me?”

Judith doesn’t answer with words. Instead she gestures, heading for a door, and Ashlyn eyes her warily until the gesture gets more urgent and she starts to fear staying in one place. She follows, haltingly, ready at any second to shed her overcoat and smash out a window. Or a door. Whatever’s closest.

She stops being able to think the minute she follows Judith in.

The room is empty except for two trophy cases, enormous ones, gold-plated. Each holds a pair of wings.

The first pair of wings are cream and gray, striped, like her own but slightly darker. It’s not those that frighten her, even on their scale- on _her_ scale- it’s the other pair, the pair of wings that are so black the light reflects off of them through glass.

Ali.

Ashlyn stumbles forward, pressing her palm to the glass, about to heave just as she realizes these aren’t Ali’s wings. There’s white on these wings that Ali’s don’t have, and Ashlyn, once she forces herself to pay attention and fight the panic down, realizes they’re also too long by at least two inches. It doesn’t change the fact that a psychotic cyborg has her trapped in a room with two pairs of life-sized wings, but she’s able to use her brain again once she’s convinced Ali’s probably not in immediate danger.

But she is.

She backs up, chest heaving, and finds- when Judith pushes her, as she eventually does, back into the room- that the part-machine thing is no joke. A woman that age shouldn’t be as solid _or_ as strong as this.

“You weren’t the only one.”

Ashlyn swings; Judith catches her fist impossibly fast and holds it in her own hand firmly enough that Ashlyn can’t imagine trying to move it.

“You want to hear what I’m going to tell you.”

When Ashlyn reacts by swinging herself into a full-body hit, she ends up sprawled on the ground, her head knocked up against one of the trophy cases hard enough that it, along with her vision, wobbles dangerously. She doesn’t move again. Mostly she doesn’t move because she’s not confident that she can yet.

“I’m not afraid to drop that thing on you if you don’t behave.”

Ashlyn neglects to answer.

“There were two more. When the idea came about to try and splice avian and human genetic material, they planned a project of four- two male, two female. Two of each species, genetically identical insofar as they could be made genetically identical and still opposite genders. Thing is, the males didn’t come out right- something changed, something in the chemistry of their brains. They were useless. More bird than man. The idea had been to cross-breed and see what happened from there.”

Ashlyn tries to roll over, but a swift kick to the ribs stills her again. She’s hearing what Judith’s saying but not taking any of it in fast enough to answer yet.

“Obviously that didn’t work,” Judith says, conversationally, so casually that it makes Ashlyn want to be sick. Her head’s still up against the case, and that’s what finally brings her voice back into play.

“So you took their wings off.”

“I wanted to see what would happen. I didn’t intend for them to die.”

“And now?”

She’s afraid of the answer but knows she has to have it. Judith’s foot shifts, a little too close to Ashlyn’s face for comfort; she winces and curls in around herself.

“You’re not listening to me. You were born to breed. Your soulmate- if you want to think of him that way- is dead. There’s no reason for you to be alive anymore.”

“We’re not cattle,” Ashlyn spits, struggling to her feet and backing up quickly enough that she avoids getting hit again. Judith doesn’t seem to want to hit her anymore, anyway. She laughs instead.

“You’re still under that delusion of some kind of humanity, aren’t you?”

Ashlyn backs until she hits the opposite wall, as far from Judith as she can be, still uncomfortably close to the cases. The wings like hers are on her left, inescapable.

“It’s not a delusion,” she insists. She’s said it to Ali a thousand times. Somehow that life seems miles away now, years away, like it’s been decades since she was home with Ali in her arms.

“You were _created_. Any sense of individuality you feel has been genetically coded into you. You’re as human as a lab rat with an inflated sense of self-awareness.”

Within seconds Ashlyn comes up with a plan.

The glass shatters easily when she kicks it in but she can feel some of the glass end up in her leg even as she reaches for the now-discarded handle. She barely gets a grip on it before Judith is at her, knocking her legs out from under her, and now whatever she was going to do is shot to hell because the best she can do is flail and try to hit Judith with whatever on her is hard enough to do damage. Using her elbows and knees and the handle as a bludgeon she manages to keep from getting too hurt. Her head’s still cotton-filled from the earlier hit, but she fights until Judith’s under her.

In that moment, with Judith pinned, with the handle pressing into the strange woman’s throat to keep her down, Ashlyn realizes what she’s going to have to do if she wants Ali safe.

-

By the time Ashlyn gets back the hotel is in a panic.

She’s only been gone three hours, but it’s three hours too long, in light of recent events. All Ali can do is wait, because she knows better than to leave, herself, and knows better than to try even if she wants to take the risk. There are too many people around her on high alert more than willing to restrain her.

Ashlyn shows up at the start of the fourth hour.

Ali sees her first, coming down the street, from her vantage point on the roof. Within moments she’s scrambled down the fire escape and landed feet-first on the sidewalk. Without any regard for the people behind her- Cheney, it sounds like, and Abby, maybe- she makes sure she gets to Ashlyn first, holding her face, careful of her bloody nose, hyper-aware of everything down to her noticeable limp.

Nobody tries to get a word out of Ashlyn until later, until after Lauren’s helped Ali pry the pieces of glass from her leg and shoulders, until Ashlyn’s submerged to her neck in a bathtub of warm water with nobody but Ali to see her cry.

Ali’s first thought is that Ashlyn’s in shock. She reaches over, kneeling at the edge of the bathtub, and strokes through Ashlyn’s hair with one hand. She doesn’t expect Ashlyn to speak, so when Ashlyn _starts_ to, Ali listens without stopping her. She listens through the entire ordeal, no matter how many times she wants to interject, until Ashlyn gets to describing how she escaped, and Ali understands, even then, what it is that’s been left unspoken. It’s been said before- “I’d kill for you”- but it’s different when it’s an action and not a string of words. It’s different because Ashlyn is still crying, clutching Ali’s hand between both of her own, just under the water. Because she’s shaking from wingtip to wingtip.

“She said it was all a product of their- of the experiment. Everything I am. Everything we are.”

“It’s not true,” Ali says, repeating the words Ashlyn’s said to her hundreds of times. “No matter what happened to us before we got out of there, everything that’s happened since- it’s all us. You said it yourself.”

“But if they coded us. If they designed us to, to end up like this- to end up together.”

Ashlyn doesn’t finish the sentence. 

Ali retracts her hand, leaning back on her heels.

“Al,” Ashlyn starts, and then cries again, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes, “I love you. I love you, I- I’m so scared that none of this is real.”

Ali doesn’t know how to answer. She’s been scared her whole life. She’s been scared since the moment she realized that Ashlyn was the love of her life- scared to believe it was true, scared to believe it was anything but happenstance, but convenience, but the fact that they lived alone together for so long. And Ashlyn has always, always been there to convince her that the truth is they transcend all of it.

That ‘I love you’ means something outside of endorphins and the configuration of a double helix.

If Ashlyn can’t believe it anymore, how can she?


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sometimes falling apart is the only way to stay together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S BEEN A WHILE I know I know I hope it was worth the wait.

“She’s fine.”

“She’s-?”

Ali sinks into an armchair, pale and exhausted.

“She’s fine. She just needs to sleep.”

The thing is that she’s pretty sure Ashlyn’s _not_ sleeping, and it had taken every ounce of her willpower to ignore her instincts and leave her counterpart alone. In her head she fights away the word ‘girlfriend’ because it doesn’t encompass everything. She fights away ‘lover’, too.

Christie touches her knee, and Ali looks up, and she knows before the question’s asked of her that she’s going to have to tell every word of what Ashlyn told her.

-

She cries halfway through. 

Megan sits on the arm of the chair and rubs her back, and the rest of the team is quiet, free of judgement. They let her cry. Nobody shuffles, nobody’s impatient with her, and their generosity makes her cry even more, until she can finally finish, until she can tell them, shaking on Ashlyn’s behalf, about how it ended. Megan’s hand stills on her back for barely a moment, but it’s long enough for Ali to notice.

The entire group is feeling much along the same lines. They’re thinking of Ashlyn as they last remember her and trying to imagine her killing someone. They’re never going to see her the same way, whether or not they understand what she did, whether or not they approve of it- Ashlyn is changed forever in their minds. Things are different. They’re busy enough noticing the changes in their own minds that most of them don’t notice how different _Ali_ is. Kelley does, but she doesn’t know what to say, or whether or not she should just leave it. She leaves it because she doesn’t want to draw attention to it.

Christie is the first to speak. She’s speaking specifically to Ali, but doesn’t dismiss anyone. It’s important to her that everyone hears whatever she tells Ali- the last thing she needs is the idea that there are secrets here, between any of them.

“We- as a team- we don’t take lives. We save lives.”

“I know,” Ali says, “I mean, Ashlyn knows. She didn’t do it because she wanted to.”

“I’m sure she didn’t, that’s not what I meant to suggest. All I meant was that it’s not within our- I guess you could call it our mission statement. And that’s something that’s going to have to be addressed, because whether or not she meant to, or wanted to, she took a life.”

“She did it for me,” Ali interrupts, the tears in her voice again but held back as she sits on the edge of the chair, dislodging Megan. She can’t think of a good reason to defend Ashlyn, but she’s doing it anyway. She doesn’t feel like there’s anything else for her to do.

“She did it to keep me safe.”

“Nobody told either of them the rules,” Megan interjects, “they didn’t have mentors or anything, Pearcie, nobody ever told them anything.”

“You don’t have to be told not to kill someone.”

It’s Hope, from the back of the room, that says what half of them are thinking. It’s not a dislike of Ashlyn that makes her say it. It just seems like a weak argument to her, like grasping at straws, and in her head and in her heart she knows it’s not an excuse that’s going to fly- Ashlyn’s smart enough to know. They all are. When Ali looks at her she knows what she’s done and flushes, and if Kelley takes a step away from her, she tries her hardest not to notice. It’s still true. As harsh as it is, as much as Ali may hate her for saying it, it’s still _true_.

x

-

“There’s nothing I can do to help her.”

Christie’s being as honest as she can, but she’s not being _entirely_ honest. There’s an option, but not one that she can take, and she’s aware that Ali’s smart enough to get it. Now that they’re alone Ali’s caved in on herself a little bit, like she’s no longer afraid to show weakness, like she can admit that Ashlyn’s not the only one who’s been broken by this.

“I understand.”

“The police are going to find this dead woman, cyborg woman, and they’re going to find that Ashlyn’s prints don’t match anyone, and they’re going to assume, because this was a cyborg, because of the wings, that it was us. One of us. And to them it’s not going to matter who it was, or why she did it. They’re not going to care that it was a crime of passion.”

“Self defense,” Ali murmurs, refuting what she’d said only twenty minutes ago, and Christie pauses.

“They’re going to come after us.”

Ali makes a soft noise of pain, clutching her hands together, but doesn’t speak. She can hear where it’s going. She doesn’t want to, but she can hear it, and she’s too cowardly to get up and leave, and too tired to stand up for Ashlyn again, and too scared of herself to try and prove that they’re not the animals that they seem. 

“We can’t harbor a fugitive. We can’t- she has to turn herself in, or this entire operation is put in danger.”

“You willingly put the whole operation in danger when we went into the subway tunnel.”

Christie sighs. She understands the comparison but doesn’t believe in it, doesn’t believe it’s at all the same. In her head, the problem isn’t that she can’t justify what Ashlyn did- she absolutely can- it’s that the threat of the police is too strong, and the back of her neck prickles thinking about what they’ll do when they catch up. Better one person than all of them, as hard as that call is to make- she knows it’s true. Logically. No matter how much it hurts to have to say. 

“If you want her gone, I’m going, too. You’re going to lose both of us.”

“You’re welcome to stay,” Christie insists, but she can see that it’s a lost cause.

“No- you don’t understand. This isn’t an option. If I could choose, I would stay. If I could choose, she would _want_ me to stay. But we can’t be apart. It’s very simple. We were created like this. There can’t ever just be one of us.”

Christie gets to her feet, and pulls Ali to standing so that they look each other in the eye. Without another word, Ali goes, and Christie lets her.

-

Ashlyn wakes up when the bed shifts. She thinks, for a heartbeat, that it’s Ali, and lifts her head, sitting up. It’s not Ali. It’s Kelley on her left side, and it’s Tobin on her right, as if they’ve come to her in a dream. They don’t say anything. Tobin crawls up close and leans against the headboard and pulls Ashlyn’s head to her shoulder. Ashlyn doesn’t resist, out of gratefulness more than exhaustion, and when Kelley reaches for her hand and the tears start again, she’s not ashamed of it.

-

So it’s an ugly situation. Lauren knows it’s an ugly situation. She knows that Ashlyn’s in more trouble than Christie exposed when they were all together; it’s obvious when Ali camps out on the couch instead of going back to her own room. She looks deflated, but she doesn’t try to sleep, she just sits there. Lauren and A-Rod are the only other ones in the living room, and Lauren’s never sure how to handle wounds that she can’t see.

Amy’s better about it.

She joins Ali on the couch and hands her a mug of tea. Ali manages a sip before she puts it down and drops her head into her hands and takes a shuddery breath to keep from crying again. 

“She’s going to turn herself in.”

Amy strokes Ali’s hair; a distinctly motherly gesture that wouldn’t work if anyone else tried it but of the sort that Amy is known for. Nobody prompts her, and if they had she might have closed up. 

“Christie’s going to tell her what her options are, and she’s only going to see one. She’s going to turn herself in and I’m expected to stay.”

“That’s unfair,” Amy commiserates, and Ali lifts her head.

“It’s impossible.”

Lauren may not quite be able to sit and draw the words from Ali like poison, but there’s something else she can do. A stretch, and absolutely a way to get herself in trouble, but if it keeps them whole, if she can help this at all- it’ll be worth it.

-

Seattle.

It hits her overnight when she wakes up to the sound of rain. Portland and Seattle. She remembers growing up in Washington, she remembers Rachael moving to Seattle after college. She remembers Rachael crying the way Ali had, talking about Ashlyn, only for Rachael it had been a job she didn’t get. 

“Megan.”

From the other bed Lori’s reading her, and in another circumstance Megan might have found it within herself to be upset about that, but there’s not much in her other than a mix of excitement and dread. Her heart is pounding and her mouth is dry but she answers subvocally, kind of grunting, pushing her hands through her hair and surprising herself when she notices the sweat at her hairline.

“Don’t do what you’re thinking of doing.”

“What am I thinking of doing?”

She needs Lori to say it, to make it real and not part of her dream. She needs the words to be said by someone else otherwise they’re just a product of her sweat and her heartbeat and not an option in the light of day. And she knows that Lori knows this; Lori knows her in a quiet, intimate way, especially here and now. Megan doesn’t try to hide herself. She leaves her mind open, laid bare for Lori and Lori alone.

Because she’ll know what to say.

“Going after her,” comes the eventual response, and as much as it’s a plea not to do it Megan knows that she has to try.

-

A walk around the block only requires two people, but it might as well be one, the way Abby refuses to talk. She’s focused, worried about the police almost as much as she’s worried about the possibility that someone _else_ is watching them, maybe with eyes a little less than human. Hope has to take longer steps to keep up with Abby, who’s not much taller than her but whose legs seem obscenely long when she decides to keep a pace like she has now.

“I didn’t mean to be an asshole about it,” Hope says into the frost. Abby ignores her. She tries again, mostly because Abby’s the only one she’ll admit it to, because Abby’s opinion of her is the way it is- clear. Abby understands her. And probably hates her for it about as much as she respects her for it.

“I didn’t realize it was such an asshole move until after I said it.”

“Whatever, Hope.”

It’s not even a proper dismissal. Abby doesn’t give it enough thought for it to be a proper dismissal. She ahsn’t heard, really, and if she had she might have sympathized, because nobody knows how to put their foot in their mouth like _she_ does. Still Hope persists, until Abby has to hear her.

“I just feel like everyone thinks I was trying to kick Ashlyn out. Or get her kicked out.”

Hope’s very presence is grating all of a sudden, like she’s taken the form of everything Abby’s worried about or frustrated with, and Abby bursts at her, saying the first thing that comes to mind and turning to face her, stopping their walk abruptly.

“Stop fucking around with Kelley.”

Hope blinks. Her face grows hard all at once, as if she’s withdrawn, like a turtle back into its shell.

“I’m not.”

“Are you sleeping with her?”

“Yes,” Hope answers, unwaveringly defiant, like before.

“Then you’re fucking around.”

She turns to walk again. Hope is at her shoulder, seething with righteous indignation now that Abby has given her a reason to.

“Jesus, when did you get such a stick up your ass?”

“If you would stop fucking around with a kid who doesn’t know any better you’d see that there are plenty of reasons for it.”

“Oh my God, are you jealous? Have I not been paying close enough attention to your _feelings_? We’re not married, if you have a problem you have to fucking tell me.”

Abby thinks of Sarah, and then of Ashlyn and Ali, and decides she’d rather not talk at all. She ignores Hope’s obvious attempt at goading her into a fight and sticks her hands into her pockets- too violently, because she hears stitches pop. Hope doesn’t try again. She feels used in a way she never had when they’d been sleeping together, like Abby’s gotten off emotionally without giving her the chance to. Mostly she’s pissed that Abby thinks she’s using _Kelley_ , but too fundamentally fucked up to admit her actual vulnerability. So she shuts up.

-

Jrue greets her with a kiss that makes her forget, momentarily, about the cold seeping through her boots and through her home.

“You were MIA for a while there.”

“Did you think I’d ditched you?”

It’s hard not to be flirtatious with him. It’s hard not to want to forget, the way his kiss made her forget; it’s hard to say what she needs to say. Especially when he smiles and catches a curl between his thumb and forefinger, when he leans his lower body so that they touch hips.

“I need a favor.”

“Anything.”

It’s blasé, the way he says it, like ‘anything’ really _means_ ‘anything’, somehow. She wants to believe it. She’s almost sure that her belief is going to waver when she tells him what she needs, can almost imagine his eyes narrowing, his touch lightening and then going away entirely.

That’s not how it happens.

-

“I need to talk to you.”

Christie rolls her shoulders, looking up from her desk, and gestures for Lauren to come in. Lauren, though, doesn’t take the seat on the other side of the reception desk- she takes the one at Christie’s side, and instead of waiting for an invitation she starts off as strongly as she can.

“I’ve been seeing him. The undercover cop I saved, I’ve been seeing him since. And I saw him tonight.”

Christie is momentarily crippled by the kind of disbelief people tend to have when told of a death in the family, the kind that tugs her mouth into a smile before she realizes that Lauren is serious, that Lauren has betrayed them, that Lauren- her _family_ , the only person who knows, to any extent, what she’s been through- has turned around and willingly made the same mistake.

Christie has spent her last ten years trying to protect her and she’s thrown it away, just like that.

She gets up to go; Lauren holds her by the wrist and keeps her in place, trying and failing to make eye contact again. Christie yanks her hand back but doesn’t leave, leaning into the reception counter as if she’s had a hole blown through her.

“You’ve gotten us all killed. Maybe worse.”

“He’s not like that.”

“Neither was Chris,” she hisses, catching Lauren’s gaze, “until he _was_. Don’t you understand? You fell for exactly what you saw me fall for. Exactly what I was trying to keep you from falling for. But it’s not just your heart that’s on the line here, it’s the lives of every single person you love. Is it worth it? Is he worth it?”

“It’s not like that,” Lauren insists, but there are tears prickling at the corner of her eyes, because no matter whether or not Christie has things right her anger and her pain are genuine. Lauren’s crying for the fact that Christie thinks she’d do anything to jeopardize her family, but on another level out of fear.

Because she had almost done it.

“Listen to me,” she says, to Christie’s unwavering maternal coldness, “please, okay? I didn’t do what you think I did. I didn’t tell him it was any of us. I asked him to tell me if there were any murders in the area; told him we were trying to figure out which areas needed our help the most, and he told me about the cyborg first. Told me that the department thought we were behind it. And then I,” she takes a deep, shaking breath, “lied to him. For us. He is convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that we knew nothing, that we did nothing, that we are as confused as they are. And he’s going to lead them away from us, for me.”

Another pause.

It’s been a long day. Christie sinks back into her chair and Lauren catches her. They’re holding each other upright, in all honesty, because what they’ve been through- just now, years ago, over the past few days- is too much to go through alone. 

Eventually Christie lifts her head, smoothing back Lauren’s hair, and their tears turn to smiles.

“Thank you,” Christie says, pressing their foreheads together, and Lauren laughs.

“Thank you.”

-

Ali finds her in the morning. 

Ashlyn’s on the roof, as she always is, with her knees pulled up to her chest, a silhouette against the rippling dawn. She doesn’t speak, but as it’s always been with them, their bodies do a better job than their voices. It starts with fingertips, moves so that Ali’s touching Ashlyn’s forearms, shoulders face. Ashlyn’s still, in penance and supplication, until Ali kisses her and she knows they’re home free. 

She can taste the relief on Ali’s lips.

-

“So, what? Are you guys, like, broken up?”

Kelley shrugs. Tobin sits with her back against the headboard of her bed, Alex resting between her legs, back against her front. Kelley wants closeness like that, wants the comfort of someone caring enough to touch her casually. Not that she’s under any delusion that Hope wants closeness like that, just that she’d like to _know_ , once and for all.

To her knowledge Hope never slept the previous night.

Alex, putting the finishing touches on her manicure, misses the shrug completely.

“I mean, _can_ you really be broken up? Because you weren’t officially a thing.”

“We’re a thing.”

She says it with the deep certainty that doesn’t require thought. That had not, by any stretch of the imagination, been a casual hookup. Hope had been too gentle with her for that, too insistent on hearing her name from Kelley’s lips (the memory of _that_ makes her blush). Does that mean she wants to be like Tobin and Alex? Not necessarily. But they hadn’t just slept together. They’d _slept_ together.

Alex takes her word for it. She’s prying a little bit, nicely, to see if Hope has shown Kelley any of what _she_ had the chance to see. Clearly not. When she lets the subject drop, Tobin does, too, clearly more absorbed in the Discovery channel than in Kelley’s love life, whether out of niceness or out of genuine disinterest. 

Because it’s Tobin, it’s niceness, of course. The TV shows a forest; they’re talking about fragile ecosystems. After a pan over the treetops the camera settles in on a pair of birds, sparrows or something, and Tobin’s mind takes a different turn.

“It’s gotta be really hard to be- to have animal DNA. I mean, you know? There’s only two of them out there in the whole world, probably.”

She means to instill the sense of loneliness that idea gives her, but Alex just caps her nail polish, sets it on the night table, and leans back, resting her head back against Tobin’s shoulder. Kelley replies, after a moment’s thought, “They don’t know any other way to be.”

“Do you think they’re human? I mean, obviously they’re people. That’s not the question. But, like if you had to say whether or not they’re like us, what would you say?”

Alex’s entrance into the conversation is, as usual, a game-changer. Kelley chews her lip; Tobin loops her left arm around Alex’s midsection, and all three of them think on it. There doesn’t seem to be an answer. In many ways it’s very clear that Ashlyn and Ali are just like the rest of them, just women, with the same set of feelings, and the same set of capabilities, plus a little extra. All that aside there’s always still a lurking _difference_. Not sinister, not obvious, just there. Setting them apart.

“I think they’re more like us than we want to think,” Alex says, finally. “I think- we try to pretend they’re different from us because they scare us, you know? Because I guess, they weren’t raised around people necessarily, so it feels like they’re more...true. And that’s scary, cause even though we all care about each other it’s not like we don’t put up fronts, or whatever. But they don’t. So they’re like the ideal, honest versions of us?”

Tobin blinks.

Kelley sighs, then heaves herself to her feet.

“I need a juicebox after that. Christ.”

-

“So, did you cop boyfriend help us out, or what?”

Lauren jumps, almost hitting her head on the cabinet behind her, and immediately panics. Nobody’s around to hear Sydney, though- of course not. Because Sydney would never _do_ that. How she knows is another question entirely, although somehow Lauren’s not entirely surprised. She clears her throat and goes back to making her sandwich; Sydney comes to her, leaning against the counter with one hip and watching almost studiously.

“That was a total guess.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

Sydney proceeds as if that last sentence weren’t said at all, and Lauren’s almost grateful for it.

“I figured it had to be that, because suddenly Ali and Ashlyn weren’t an issue anymore, and you look a little like you’ve been waterboarded or something.”

Lauren laughs. Syd’s their best-kept secret, and she knows it- she’s someone to confide in, someone who won’t front, won’t be anything but honest. She’s pretty much everyone’s close friend by virtue of who she _is_ \- someone easy to get along with. It might feel like a casual conversation, the stakes are higher than that, and they both know it. 

"I know I shouldn't be seeing him."

Sydney sticks her pointer finger into the peanut butter and pops it in her mouth, sucking thoughtfully before she speaks again. Lauren caps the jelly but leave the peanut butter open.

"I don't know. I mean, he's definitely cute, and this makes twice that he's helped us out."

"He doesn't know what he's doing right now. He knows he's helping, but he doesn't know the truth."

"That was nice of you."

Sydney takes another swipe. Lauren decides the peanut butter's not going back in the pantry. She's trying to figure out what Sydney means when she's surprised by a hug that makes her shift a little to return it.

"I think you'll know," Syd says, and Lauren squeezes her tighter. They stand like that for a few moments, Lauren leaning so that Sydney holds up part of her weight, and then: "I'm taking the peanut butter on shift with me. If anyone asks it disappeared mysteriously."

-

The repetition of the rowing machine is a welcome distraction, or at least Megan _assumes_ it will be. She’s got a face in her mind, an address in her mind, and with each second she feels as if the things tying her to HQ are dissolving around her, setting her free to do whatever she wants. What she wants is to find Rachael. What she wants is to scratch the itch, the one buried so deep inside her she doesn’t really know how to begin to reach it, except that it has to do with her job and Ali’s story.

It’s like she knows. It’s like she _knows_ that Ali’s story is true, and not just by the virtue of Ali having told it. It’s something else. It’s the itch.

She goes 200 more yards before she stops and gets herself up onto the roof. She’s expecting to be alone up there, or at least not to find _Lori_ up there, but these days it’s as if Lori’s always half a step ahead of her. And it’s about as unsettling as it is oddly comforting, to not have to explain herself. She’ll have to eventually. When she leaves, because she knows she will, she’ll have to explain where she’s going, and more than likely they’ll all think she’s crazy.

“They’ll believe you,” Lori says, tucking her hands into her coat pockets. Megan joins her, but doesn’t make eye contact, opting instead to pick at the seam on her yoga pants.

“Stop picking around in my head, jesus.”

“Sorry.”

“No,” Megan says, “you’re not,” but she’s not trying to start a fight, she’s just jumping out of her own skin with impatience and the inability to understand herself. Lori gets it, but she withdraws a little, enough, ignoring the temptation to find Megan’s plans out, and trusting that she’ll be told when plans are made. Being in Megan’s head has made her a little shaky. It’s not as if she can feel the things Megan’s feeling (she, after all, does _not_ have a twin), but the feeling of something _missing_ makes her crazy.

In some ways, if Megan leaves, she’s going to be gone for good, and Lori knows it. Leaving- even if she comes back physically- is going to change everything, in the group and between the two of them, and despite the fact that Lori _knows_ \- with or without access to Megan’s thoughts- that her best friend is going to trek across the country, she resists it. Mainly she resists it out of fear, because losing Megan in any capacity isn’t something she’s sure she can handle. For a brief moment she wishes Megan had her power, so that she didn’t have to rely on speech to say the things she finds so hard to put into words.

But the feeling passes.

“I have to find her. Just- you know. For her sake. She probably thinks I’m dead.”

Lori doesn’t answer, and Megan feels as if she _has_ to make someone understand. Nobody else but Lori ever has, so she tries again.

“She’s part of me. I know that sounds cheesy but it’s true. And I think my job, before all this, had something to do with where Ali and Ashlyn came from.”

"So?"

"So someone has to figure out how this all fits together."

Lori laughs, maybe a little bitterly, but also partially because it's just so _Megan_ to say that, as if it's scripted. And, as if she's simply playing her own part, Lori asks, "Why you?"

Even if she doesn't want to know the answer. 

“Who else?”

It’s inevitable, of course. Lori grasps at straws for a moment and then gives up and nudges Megan’s shoulder with her own. Megan smiles at her, a little crooked.

“Just promise you’ll come back.”

-

The logic is circular. It doesn’t feel like they’re missing any part of their story, the problem is that neither of them can make peace with it. Ashlyn has spent so long diverting Ali from the truth of the situation- that it’s entirely possible that everything they feel for each other is predetermined- that Ali’s far from ready to accept it. And Ashlyn has believed it to be false for so long that she doesn’t know what to do with herself but believe it- what she can’t understand is why it should make such a difference.

She doesn’t know for sure if she was told the truth. She doesn’t know for sure whether or not her love for Ali is organic or something designed in her blood. All she knows is that to her it doesn’t matter, because it’s still true that she loves Ali, and in the end that’s what matters to her.

Ali keeps trying to talk her way out of it.

“If we were able to escape, can’t we deviate from what they _wanted_ us to do? Couldn’t it be possible that us ending up together and the fact that we were designed to be attracted to each others’ brothers is just a coincidence?”

And Ashlyn keeps trying to let her down easy, even though it would be _easiest_ just to say ‘yes’, and pretend like she’s not avoiding the issue.

“Maybe,” she says, again and again, and then “but,” and continues, forcing Ali to reconsider and start yet another path of logic.

At one point Ali drops her head into her hands and squeezes, fists at her sinuses, recreating the pressure she imagines she’s feeling inside. 

“If I didn’t know better I’d think you wanted me to come to the conclusion that we never really had genuine feelings at all,” she mutters, not intending Ashlyn to hear her. Ashlyn _does_ hear her, of course, and would have even if she didn’t have heightened senses.

“It’s a good thing you know better, then.”

“Do I?”

That’s not something Ashlyn knows how to answer. She doesn’t. Ali had been hoping for _any_ answer, and when she gets none she feels her heart sink. Knowing Ashlyn was safe had made her feel as if everything else had been fixed, but of course it hasn’t magically happened that way. 

Even if Ashlyn is physically here, to Ali, she might as well be gone.

-

Once Ali and Ashlyn are safe, Hope is forgiven. In a way Kelley feels like she’ll forgive Hope almost anything, once she remembers who it was who held her hand while Alex and Lauren healed her. At any rate this was a minor transgression, and an easily forgivable one once it’s been established that she felt bad for saying what she said.

This is, of course, not established by Hope admitting that she felt bad, but by Hope tonguing patterns across the freckles of Kelley’s shoulder and neck for near thirty minutes before bothering to do anything in the way of furthering her own ‘situation’. 

Kelley isn’t sure she’s ever felt like _that_ before, when she feels it.

-

"How'd you end up getting roped into this clown roundup?"

Kelley thinks Hope might have been mixing her sayings, but she doesn't care, not with Hope's arm slung around her waist. For a moment she thinks about lying, or not answering at all, but she realizes quickly she'd never be able to. She's too exposed already. She has nothing to hide from Hope, and she doesn't want to feel as if she _should_ hide anything. She shifts the leg that's over Hope's hip and cuddles closer into the crook of her neck and shoulder.

"I tried to jump off a building."

Hope can't see Kelley's face, so she doesn't know not to laugh. She _does_ laugh, then, still drunk off the high of orgasm, that and the simple pleasure of Kelley's nakedness beside her.

"Come on, I'm serious."

"So am I."

Hope lifts her head. Kelley turns her own, resting her chin on Hope's shoulder so that they can make brief, mostly peripheral eye contact, but she doesn't say anything until Hope squeezes the arm around her waist.

"I did, I tried to jump off a building, and Tobin stopped me."

" _Why?_ "

"I'm assuming because she didn't want to see me jump off and splat on the sidewalk," Kelley answers evenly, but there's not a note of sarcasm to her voice. It's bitterness, not sarcasm, and Hope knows enough about bitterness to be able to recognize it in someone else. What she can't tell is whether Kelley's bitter that Tobin stopped her or bitter that she tried in the first place, and the gray area scares the shit out of her. She sits up a little against the headboard so that she can look at Kelley properly, and Kelley rolls onto her back, leaving the warmth of their bodies together to be alone on her side of the bed.

"I was lonely. Why else does anyone try to commit suicide?"

Hope waits for the rest of it, because she knows it'll come. Kelley feels an emptiness in the pit of her stomach, feels the sweat that's dried on the back of her neck and wishes this conversation never started. More than anything she wants to wrap herself back up in Hope and go to sleep.

"I...had a bad breakup. That's not why I did it, or tried to, I mean. It was just part of it. My girlfriend moved away and never even, like, officially broke up with me before she started dating again, and then I guess when I started duplicating it scared me into thinking I was going crazy."

Hope has to break it into bits to address it, because it's so much all at once. The first thing that comes out of her mouth is, as always, the most caustic.

"Girlfriend?"- because she had imagined that she might be the first woman Kelley was ever with, and this wakeup call ruffles her feathers, pokes at her most hidden insecurity. She hates herself for laughing when Kelley first admitted to her suicide attempt, and now she hates herself for asking about the girlfriend, but she doesn't feel like she's in control anymore.

Kelley just blinks.

"Yeah. Christen. We met in college and we were together for I guess, like...a year and a half."

The rest of it makes sense. The part about Tobin being the one to save Kelley especially makes sense. Hope falls silent, rolling onto her side to face Kelley, who gazes complacently up at the ceiling as if the conversation isn't bothering her a bit. Inside Kelley's a mess of doubt. She's not sure if she should have told the truth, or at least she's not sure if she should have told _all_ of the truth. She's afraid to turn and see how Hope's looking at her. She's afraid Hope's going to think less of her.

The words swell in Hope's chest as she looks at Kelley, at the sheets twisted across her stomach, the line of her brow and the rise and fall of her bare chest with her breath. 

All of that could have been gone. 

"I'm glad you're alive," Hope says, but 'I love you' is what she means, even if she's not quite ready to admit it to herself. Kelley smiles, slowly, starting with her eyes, and begs herself not to cry.

“Me, too.”

Hope’s only mildly upset that she can’t make the words come out. She’s not sure Kelley’s ready to hear them, anyway, so she shows it instead, or tries to, reaching her hand over to splay over Kelley’s stomach. It rests there, so Hope can feel the air swell under her palm, and she rubs circles with her thumb until Kelley turns her head and she can lean in to kiss her.

-

This movie night isn’t as nice as the last one. 

It’s Amy’s turn to choose, and she chooses Great Expectations, which puts Abby to sleep and makes A-Rod cry. Tobin spends most of it dozing against the arm of Abby’s armchair, Alex is riveted, and Kelley braids Alex’s hair seven different ways. Lori is bored by the predictable love story and Ethan Hawke’s face and can tell without having to try that Megan’s just as distracted. She’s picking at her cuticles. About twenty minutes in Lori covers Megan’s hands with one of hers and Megan stops.

She’s nervous.

Whether or not everyone’s awake during the movie, once it’s over they’re in different stages of ‘sleepy’. Megan catches Ali’s eye and almost doesn’t do what she knows she has to- Ali’s been crying, but the red around her eyes is so constant now that it takes a second to notice. Despite it- and the fact that Ashlyn is huddled into a blanket on the other side of the room, between Barnie and Jill- she smiles, and Megan lifts Lori’s hand off her lap.

“I have something to say.”

“Congratulations,” Syd says groggily, pointing at Lori, “I didn’t know you had it in you.” 

It’s clearly some sort of joke but Megan’s too distracted to get it, even if a few people actually _laugh_ at it. She ignores it; sooner or later they’ll realize that she’s serious. All it takes, in the end, is Shannon getting up and walking to her, expectantly, to make everyone else fall quiet.

“I’ve started remembering things.”

The silence, if possible, actually deepens. Ali’s smile melts right off, and Megan feels guilty about it, remembering their conversation. Lori prompts her, nudging her with one foot.

“I know I was born in Portland and I know I moved to New York when I was offered a job with the government. I don’t know what the job was,” Abby stiffens and Christie clears her throat, “but I know I have a twin in Seattle and I think _she_ might know. And I think it might have something to do with the whole cyborg mess.”

She expects a flurry of excitement, or at least a pretty vocal reaction, but for the most part the entire group just blinks at her, like she’s as boring and confusing as a shitty Gwyneth Paltrow movie. Heather’s the first to speak up- “You have a twin?”- and it’s so anticlimactic that Megan can’t decide whether to laugh or cry. Lori had immediately understood she was going to leave and look for Rachael, but in hindsight it’s really not surprising that everyone else requires a little more explaining to.

“Apparently, yeah, and once I find her, I think I might be able to figure out where I came from. You know, how Ali and Ashlyn know, and maybe, I mean, its a long shot, but maybe I can help the rest of us out, too.”

 _Then_ comes the flurry of excitement she was expecting. Everyone starts talking at once except for Christie and Lori, and Megan can only catch the basic idea- Tobin telling her not to go, Shannon telling her to think it over- until Abby manages to be heard above everyone else, which, conveniently, makes the rest of them fall silent.

“What if we don’t _want_ to know where we came from?”

Megan can’t answer.

Lori does.

“Hiding from it isn’t going to help us. We can all tell something’s happening, okay? The cops are closing in- we all know that- and apparently other people are, too, and not knowing anything keeps us in the dark. As long as we don’t know, we’re not safe.”

“She’s right.” Ashlyn stands up, and nobody misses the look that Ali gives her from across the room. Abby feels attacked, and wants to address Lori’s comment about hiding, but Kelley speaks up next, and she manages to ask what even Lori couldn’t.

“You’re coming back, right? Like, I know we won’t be able to keep you from going, but are you going to come back?”

“Of course.” 

Kelley doesn’t look convinced. Megan let her arms fall to her sides and says it like she means it- she _does_ mean it, after all.

“Of course, of course I’ll come back. This is my home.”

-

It’s strange sleeping across the room from Ashlyn, but it’s been the case for three nights, and Ali doesn’t want to change it. No matter how much her heart wants her to cross the room and slide in beside Ashlyn, her head’s telling her it’s a bad idea. They need time to think, and falling into old patterns isn’t going to help them.

Besides, that impulse is probably scripted, anyway.

She finds herself wondering, as Ashlyn’s breathing evens out in the next bed, what her life had been like if they hadn’t ended up together. If she had fallen in love with someone else, not dictated by DNA, by anything but chance, who would she be now?

She just keeps seeing Ashlyn. She just keeps remembering learning her body, learning through Ashlyn’s body. She keeps remembering how the nightmares melted away when Ashlyn held her.

“Don’t leave,” Ashlyn says, and Ali jumps, surprised she’s conscious enough to speak. 

Or maybe not. She murmurs it again, then shifts under the blankets, and Ali knows instinctively that she’s having a nightmare. She listens for a few more seconds to Ashlyn’s little whimpers before she gives up and rolls out of bed, kneeling at Ashlyn’s bedside and stroking a hand through her hair to wake her.

When Ashlyn does wake she startles, grabbing Ali’s hand, and when her eyes focus the panic turns to confusion.

Ali knows without having to ask that Ashlyn was dreaming of losing her. It’s why Ashlyn’s hand curls over hers, and it’s in the desperation written plainly on her face. 

“I’m not leaving,” Ali says.

“You already did.”

“No,” Ali says, but her stomach drops, because in a way she’s afraid that it’s true. And it’s not Ashlyn’s fault, what they’re being put through, and the last thing Ali wants is to hurt Ashlyn, but she has no way of knowing what’s real and what isn’t, and it makes her head spin.

Her head only stops spinning once she crawls into the bed, pressing her front to Ashlyn’s wings, looping her arms low around Ashlyn’s stomach and resting her lips below Ashlyn’s ear. Her head only stops spinning once Ashlyn is hers again.

In the morning she’ll think again. In the morning she’ll regret caving. But for right now there’s nothing better than the patterns of Ashlyn’s breathing and the way they fit together.

-

“I don’t want to lie to you anymore. I- I want to see him. Not just to see what happened with the investigation.”

“Well, you’re going to do it no matter what I say. You’re not a kid and I’m not going to ground you. Just don’t think you’re going with my blessing.”

-

Jrue keeps his apartment freezing, so much so that Lauren expects to be able to see her breath when she steps inside. She pulls her light jacket a little tighter, and it’s like he’s only just noticed his own thermostat; he practically trips over his own feet rushing to change it, and she stops him with a hand on his arm.

“A blanket is fine,” she says, and only realizes once he gets her one that she’s trying to leave behind as little a trace as she can. They settle on the couch like a proper couple, which should feel stranger than it does. Lauren sits with her back against the arm of the couch, and he pulls her feet onto his lap, working his fingers against the places she’s sore like he just _knows_.

He focuses, and she watches his face, and the guilt overwhelms her from every angle.

“She wasn’t even a real woman,” he tells her, conversationally. “That lady that you guys were framed for killing? She was a freaking cyborg. Like out of a sci-fi novel.”

Somehow, the first thing that comes to Lauren’s mind is Ashlyn, who is probably about as much bird as the victim was robot. She doesn’t have to think about it to know that Ashlyn’s a real woman, a real person, with feelings and aspirations. A real part of her life and her family.

“She was still a person.”

Jrue raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah, but doesn’t it make you feel a little better? I mean, aside from that there was definite sign of a struggle, and someone else’s blood, so it was probably a robbery gone wrong, not a cold-blooded murder, but also, she was half machine.”

“But she was also half _human_ ,” Lauren insists, sitting up, pulling her feet from his lap and her knees to her chest. 

He sits at an angle to look at her, and for a moment she can’t tell if he’s upset, or frustrated, or angry. As it turns out, he’s waiting for her to speak, and when she doesn’t he leans forward and places his hands on her knees, forcing her to make eye contact.

“What?”

Lauren swallows.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“I can’t.”

“You can trust me.”

Something in the way he says it reminds her of Chris. Something about his earnestness and her own guilt- maybe she’s reminded of Christie more than their betrayer- brings her years back, and she has to swallow back a wave of panic that threatens to propel her off the couch and out his door.

But he’s not Chris. And she’s not Christie.

“Is the case closed?”

He exhales, dropping his head.

“Yes.”

“But you have the ability to reopen it.”

“I won’t.”

She thinks of Ashlyn again, and Ali crying, and grabs his hands, squeezing them with as much urgency as she possibly can.

“J, you have to promise me. You have to _swear_. Even if it violates your code, or your orders, or anything like that, you have to promise me you won’t tell anyone, you won’t do anything. Telling you this is going to put my entire family in danger, and I want to trust you so bad, but you have to- if you don’t think you can do that, you have to tell me right now.”

His hands leave hers and rise to her face, and he kisses her, and she wishes she could just kiss him back and forget it all but he breaks it off before she can even try.

“I would do anything you asked me to do. If you asked me to leave the force right now, I’d do it. I don’t know why, but I’d do it.”

“It was one of us. She trapped one of us in her apartment and the only way to get out was to kill her first.”

His hands leave her face, but only to toy with her hair. He’s thinking hard, and that scares her, but not as much as it did before. He drops his hands to his thighs and breathes out through his nose.

“I guess that explains why the other person’s blood was unidentifiable.”

“Please don’t ask me who it was.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

She sinks back against the arm of the couch, letting out a breath, and Jrue hovers over her, kissing her forehead and her nose, and lowering until their hips are touching, but in a way that she thinks is meant to comfort. She slides a hand along his back and remembers healing him, only this time she’s not remembering the blood, she’s remembering the muscle, and she warms from the inside out when he kisses the shell of her ear.

She tilts her head to kiss him properly, and the hand he’s not using to hold himself up trails from her neck to her shoulder.

“Will you stay?”

He kisses her again, and she doesn’t want to pull away to answer, so he has to do it. That doesn’t happen for a while, for minutes, probably, until she’s dizzy from not breathing and from his warmth and something else that she doesn’t have too much experience with but doesn’t want to waste.

“I shouldn’t.”

“Does anyone know where you are?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t have to stay. I’m not- you don’t have to. But if you want to.”

She knows, from the way he lifts himself up far enough to get the pressure off of her hips, off of the rest of her body, that he would let her go. He’s not asking for anything, intimate or otherwise. She thinks she might love him for it.

“I’ll stay.”

-

It’s raining when Megan leaves.

It’s early- seven- but everyone is up by the time she’s ready to go. Even Lauren is back.

She takes the time to hug every single one of them, because it’s worth it, because it’s their way of giving her permission. When she gets to Ali she pauses for a moment, waffling between speaking and letting it be. She’s never been any good at ‘letting it be’. It’s not a surprise when she decides to say it.

“Thank you for helping me remember.”

Megan feels like she’s being overdramatic, so she laughs to lessen the blow. Ali doesn’t laugh back, just hugs her again. She expects some sass from Abby, but there is none, from her or from anyone. They’re all so serious that it starts to scare her, starts to make her palms sweat and her heart skip. If something happens and she doesn’t get back this will be the last time she sees them, and she’s done a pretty good job of ignoring that until right now, when it’s impossible to ignore, because it’s in all of their faces.

Especially Lori’s.

Lori, who hands her an umbrella, which she probably wouldn’t have thought to get otherwise. Who hugs her twice as long as anyone else did. Who hugs her so long that the rest of them disappear, like they know. Megan tilts her head down so that her nose presses into Lori’s shoulder and closes her eyes.

“If I’m not back in a week, you better get off your ass and come find me,” she says, muffled by the shirt, and Lori half-laughs at her before she pulls back, serious again.

“Don’t make me. Just be safe and don’t do anything too incredibly stupid.”

“Okay.”

“And don’t pick up any strays.”

Megan laughs out another “okay” before Lori jerks forward an inch, hesitates, and then pecks her on the lips. It doesn’t have to mean anything, and Megan knows that, so she doesn’t overthink it, she just smiles and squeezes Lori’s forearms and goes.

-

She goes.

Just like that, Lori’s alone, watching Megan’s narrow back until she turns the corner. The moment before she’s out of range, she’s thinking ‘goodbye’, and Lori hears it, and when she cries, she’s smiling through it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! Hope it was worth it.

The train that Megan takes smells like cabbage. She ends up with two seats to herself, and she uses her sweatshirt as a blanket and her backpack as a pillow, and sleeps through until Utica. In Utica she rouses herself from her makeshift bed and pops out the stiffness in her joints. It’s noon, so she buys herself a sandwich that she only lets herself eat half of, makes sure she’s memorized all the information on her fake ID, and goes back to the train.

There’s a man sitting across from her now, probably in his fifties, with a briefcase balanced between his ankles and a coffee in one hand. He’s a businessman with a bad, mousy-gray combover, but he smiles at her and moves his feet to let her get in easier, and it hits her how difficult it’s going to be to go from being constantly surrounded by people to being alone. She’ll have at least another two days of buses and trains before she gets to Seattle, and once she’s there all she’ll have is a name and an address, both of which are likely to lead her somewhere else, or nowhere at all.

It had seemed like a good idea five hours ago.

About five minutes into the Utica-Syracuse stint, Megan realizes she should have bought herself some reading material, or at least a crossword puzzle. As if he can sense her boredom, or at least her discomfort, the businessman takes pity on her.

“What’s your stop?”

“Seattle,” she answers, and then corrects herself, “but on this train, Chicago.”

“Running away from home?”

It’s a joke, she can tell because his eyes crinkle a little bit. She pulls her knees in and frowns exaggeratedly at him.

“Do I look that much like a high schooler?”

He laughs, putting his coffee down and extending a hand.

“Richard.”

She has to think about it.

“Marina.”

“Ah- Italian?”

She struggles to remember the last name on the ID, then nods, forcing a smile. 

“Half.”

“What’s the other half?”

The first thing that comes to mind is ‘Polish Jew’, which leads to questions about Judaism that she doesn’t know how to answer, so she switches the conversation to be about _him_ and learns more than she expected to. By the time they stop in Syracuse she knows that his stop is Rochester, that he’s on his way home from Utica, where he was on a business trip, overseeing the transformation of a family-name bank into a Wells Fargo. He’s got two kids, two years apart, a boy and a girl; their names are Adelaide and Aaron and they’re both competitive soccer players, even at nine and eleven.

In Syracuse he buys her a coffee of her own, and she worries a little that he’s about to tell her that he’s a single dad or something- that the coffee’s supposed to be something a little more symbolic- but it’s just innocent conversation, just a lonely guy on his way home. About forty-five minutes into the stint to Rochester, he points something out in his newspaper, and she tenses up immediately.

It’s about them, of course. It’s an editorial about what they mean to people, what they symbolize. Richard’s talking about how they’re all women, and how he thinks the whole thing is some big propaganda of feminism- not that he’s against it, he’s all for it- like women’s revenge, like women taking back what’s theirs. The more she reads and listens the more Richard and the author try to make them _stand_ for something, until Megan puts down the newspaper and says, tritely, “Maybe they’re just women.”

“Don’t you think that’s discrediting them, though?”

“No,” she says, then adds- so that she doesn’t look like she _knows_ the answer- “I don’t know, maybe, but I feel like they’d be causing trouble instead of fixing things?”

“No, see, that’s the whole point!” 

He sits forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“They’re proving that they’re not just _equal_ , the way they _should_ be treated- as women- but that they’re _better_.”

She almost disagrees with them, but then she thinks about it, and she wonders- even though none of them _know_ that’s why they’re there, could that be it? Could they be pawns in some kind of immense gendered power struggle?

She shrugs. He takes it as a win on his side, and in Rochester he gives her his card.

-

The day after Megan leaves, Ashlyn corners Ali on the roof.

“It’s our anniversary,” she says softly, and Ali looks down at her feet.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Happy anniversary.”

Ashlyn takes Ali’s hand gently, just so that their fingers are touching, and tries to entice her to come closer. It doesn’t work; Ali stays rigid still and her hand is limp.

“Ali- please. Come back to me.”

Ali doesn’t answer, and Ashlyn drops her hand. For a moment Ali thinks that Ashlyn’s going to give up, and her heart leaps in her chest, caught between wanting to take back all the resistance and wanting Ashlyn to walk away. Before she can decide which she actually wants, Ashlyn digs in her coat pocket and produces a box that’s of an unmistakable size. Ali freezes, unable to breathe or blink or _anything_. Anything.

“I’m not proposing. But- when I bought what’s in this box, I was going to. I thought, this year, it was ten years, and maybe, I mean, I knew you wouldn’t want a real _wedding_ , but we could seal the deal. Because when I said forever before, I really meant it. And I still mean it.”

Ali sucks in a sharp breath.

“Like I said, I’m not proposing. Or at least I’m not proposing marriage. I’m- look, I was reading this history book years ago and I read something about, you know, the way human beings have thought about love, and articulated it, through centuries, and from culture to culture and across oceans and decades, and there’s a few things that they always come back to and have in common, but the biggest one is this idea of a soulmate. The idea that there is just this _one_ person out there in the world for you, that someone was put on this earth to be your other half. And maybe we were genetically engineered to belong to each other or to be attracted to each other, but how is that any different from having a soulmate? It’s not! It’s- you’re my soulmate, Ali. And you know it.”

Ashlyn reaches for Ali’s hand again, with her free hand, and Ali doesn’t have the coherency to tell her not to. When Ashlyn squeezes her fingers she squeezes back and convinces herself it’s instinct and not a need to reassure and encourage.

It’s both.

“See, to me, it doesn’t matter how we ended up being soulmates. I love you. I don’t care why it happened or whose idea it was, because it happened, and nobody but _you_ made it happen. I am in love with you. I have always been in love with you. I’m going to be in love with you forever and I’d be in love with you no matter what our circumstances were, and-” she opens the box, and Ali gasps quietly at the two rings, nestled side by side, “I don’t even want to marry you. I just want to know that you’ll stay with me somehow, even if that means you won’t love me back, even if it means that we won’t be together, promise me we’ll be _together_. Give me the opportunity to make forever happen. Please.”

Ali doesn’t hesitate. She lets go of Ashlyn’s hand to grab the collar of Ashlyn’s sweatshirt and drag her down into a kiss, all the tension and doubt of the past few days draining out of her the moment their lips meet. Ashlyn snaps the box shut and stuffs it back into her pocket so that she can wrap her arms around Ali and pull her closer, but she has to stop the kiss to smile, and Ali’s crying, but they’re both laughing, and it’s finally over.

The rings are inverted, one black with a silver band, one silver with a black band. Ashlyn takes the black one for herself without explaining why- Ali figures it’s because she knows that the shine of the silver catches her eye. 

Ashlyn picks the black because it reminds her of Ali’s wings.

-

“If Megan can get a fake ID, shouldn’t we all?”

It’s Kelley’s question, and Christie’s glad she had the wherewithal not to ask in front of others. They’re meeting to talk about Hope, to check in on her, but Kelley doesn’t quite seem to want to have that conversation. Christie lets the surprise hit her, and then she handles it. It’s her job to.

“Why would we need them?”

“I don’t know, I just thought, what if we did? Like, what if something happened and we needed to get somewhere that required us to have an ID, or if we needed to all travel somewhere, to get away from something. Things are happening, we all know that, and nobody really knows what’s going to happen. Just to be safe.”

She has a valid point, somewhere, but admitting that they’re in danger is difficult to do, especially to someone so young. Christie is suddenly and very vividly reminded that Kelley’s life and well-being are, quite largely, in her hands. This bright young woman trusts her implicitly, and she needs to earn it.

“It’s just difficult to argue that getting a large number of fake IDs is safe. I understand what you’re saying, but I’m not sure that we could go out and get that many fake IDs and not look suspicious.”

Kelley chews her lip for a moment.

“We could get them over a long period of time. Or we could get them from a bunch of different people. We’re in New York, you can get a fake ID almost anywhere. When Tobin was in jail and Alex bailed her out, they didn’t even have IDs, and the only read they got away with it was because Alex cried, and that’s probably never going to work again.”

“I understand,” Christie insists, “look- I’m going to put you in charge of this. You and Abby. Can you handle that, or is that too much, with Hope already?”

Kelley blushes and Christie makes a note of it in the back of her mind. 

“I can handle Hope.”

-

Megan stays two hours in Chicago because she needs the air and the walk. She passes a payphone twice before she caves and calls the number she’s really supposed to save for an emergency- Lori, without consulting anyone, had bought a cheap go-phone for two weeks, so that Megan wasn’t entirely on her own. It seems stupid to call an emergency phone just because she’s lonely, but Megan really can’t help herself. She’s starting to wish she had taken someone with her- she’s really starting to wish someone had offered, but she understands why they didn’t. This is her thing. Still, she can’t help but feel as if Lori would have followed, if she’d been asked.

She picks up on the second ring.

“Megan?”

“Hi.”

She feels incredibly juvenile, the way the sound of Lori’s voice immediately calms her down, but it’s still true. For a moment she basks in it to the point that she forgets that Lori probably thinks this is an emergency.

“Are you okay?”

“Oh,” Pinoe stumbles a little, “yeah, I’m fine, I’m in Chicago, my train leaves in an hour.”

Lori lets out a long breath, and Megan wonders what words that breath was supposed to support, but she doesn’t ask. 

“How is everyone?”

“Everyone’s fine. It’s weird without you here, but everyone’s doing okay. I haven’t started renting out your bed for hookups, but it looks like there should be a pretty good market.”

“Shut up,” Megan laughs, and Lori laughs at her, and for a second she can pretend that there aren’t miles and miles between them. 

“So, Chicago. Halfway there?”

“Kind of? This next train ride is the longest, it’s almost two straight days, but there’s thirty something stops.”

“Remember to move around a lot so you don’t like, lose circulation in your legs.”

“Thanks, mom.”

There’s a few seconds of silence, and then Megan remembers that she’s running out of time and going to run out of quarters, and Lori says, “I can’t talk too long without making people suspicious,” so Megan stutters out a “yeah, of course” and they nearly hang up on each other before she gets out what she didn’t even realize she wanted to say.

“Lori, I think I’m gay.”

Silence. Then Lori laughs a little bit, but it’s a different kind of laugh.

“Tell me again when you come back and I promise I’ll try to act surprised.”

-

They get another suicide attempt in the middle of a Monday night. 

This time Hope goes, with Becky, and she’s nervous the entire way there until Becky stops her and says, “If we can’t stop her, it’s okay. Sometimes there’s nothing you can do.” Then she’s okay for a few steps, until the scene unfolds into view and she’s no longer any shade of ‘okay’.

The only kinds of suicide attempt calls that they respond to are the ones where people are about to jump off of something; mostly those are the ones they hear about that aren’t already just suicides. It’s not that much of a coincidence, honestly, that there’s a girl about to jump off of a building; it has nothing to do with Kelley and it happens frequently enough that it couldn’t possibly be. It’s just that from the ground the girl could be anyone. She could be Kelley, in an oversized sweatshirt, with her hair pulled far back and her toes poking over the edge.

For a heart stopping moment Hope truly, honestly believes that Kelley is standing on the building stories above, with absolutely nothing stopping her from stepping forward and to her death. She thinks she’s going to pass out, right there, surrounded by cops and onlookers.

The girl looks to one side and it becomes clear that she’s a stranger again just in time for Hope to exhale dizzily. Becky doesn’t seem to notice.

“I have to get closer,” she says, “help me find a way in.”

-

Kelley wakes herself up twenty minutes before Hope’s shift ends, so that she’ll be awake when Hope gets back. She likes the idea of Hope having something to come back to other than her snoring, and it turns out that Hope comes back a shaken mess, which makes Kelley glad she bothered to set her alarm for almost six in the morning.

“What was it? Did someone die?”

“Nobody died,” Hope says, pulling her rolled-up sweatshirt sleeves down and settling on the edge of the bed. Kelley reaches around and puts her hands in the pockets of the sweatshirt, resting her chin on Hope’s shoulder, and Hope takes a deep breath. Kelley’s safe, but she’s still jumpy, like there’s more for her to do.

Kelley just waits. She knows that Hope will explain what she wants to explain when she decides she wants to explain it, and in the meantime, despite the awkward angle, she’s content just having Hope in her arms. Hope breathes and tries not to think. It’s about a full minute before she reaches into her pockets and covers Kelley’s hands with her own.

“I almost died once. About three years ago I got into a really bad car accident. A guy in a Hummer had been drinking and I could tell he was swerving but instead of pulling over and letting him pass me I kept driving and he hit me going about seventy.”

Kelley doesn’t speak. Hope can feel her let out a breath; the air tickles her cheek.

“My car flipped six times. The guy’s car was mostly fine, mine was totaled. They had to cut me out of it. I lost so much blood that they were shocked when I made it to the hospital still alive. I didn’t lose consciousness until after they finished cutting the car out from around me and when I lost consciousness I thought I was dying. Kinda takes the glamour out of it.”

Kelley swallows, pulling Hope a little closer.

“I never thought there was any glamour in it.”

“I didn’t say you did,” Hope says, “But I used to. I mean, I used to fantasize about- you know, who would come to my funeral. What they’d say. Maybe it’d be easier to die young than to spend another sixty years disappointing people, maybe they’d have nicer things to say if I died before thirty.”

Kelley moves her hands so that she can squeeze Hope’s, and Hope squeezes back, but she’s not quite done. After tonight she feels like Kelley needs to know _everything_ , and while she still has the courage- or the fear- in her to do it, she forces herself to tell the whole truth.

“I was in a coma for eleven months. And tonight there was a girl on a roof about to commit suicide and to keep her from doing it I told her and it seemed wrong that I hadn’t told you.”

She’s expecting some sort of reassurance. She’s expecting, really, Kelley to tell her that waiting this long was okay, but Kelley’s quiet for a few seconds, and then when she speaks it’s a confession and not a validation.

“When I thought you and Alex and Tobin and Abby were all dead, I almost- I think I would have done it. Ashlyn stopped me and now if I were in the same position I wouldn’t be so close, but I was so close. When I thought I’d lost you.”

“I love you,” Hope blurts, instead of saying, again, that she’s glad Kelley’s still here.

Kelley falls onto her back, dragging Hope with her; Hope rolls so that she’s lying on her side facing Kelley, who grins at her, so suddenly and widely that it hurts them both. She doesn’t say it back right away. Hope can tell that she means it, whether or not she says it, but she nudges Kelley’s knee with her own anyway. It doesn’t quite get her what she wants. Kelley’s completely forgotten that it’s normal to say it back; she’s too busy living through what it feels like to know that Hope loves her. Not that it’s a surprise, just that she feels so _lucky_ , so-

“Kelley.”

“Mm?”

“You’re supposed to- you know.”

She doesn’t know right away, but when she gets it she laughs at her own sheer stupidity and at Hope’s sudden shyness and takes Hope’s face in her hands.

“Are you afraid I’m not gonna say it back?”

Hope frowns, and, framed by Kelley’s hands, the face is purely comical.

“I’m not afraid,” she insists, at the same moment that Kelley starts to say, “I love you, too.”

-

Seattle is a barrage of memories. Megan feels like a newborn, except for the whole walking thing; everything is too bright and confusing and new. She recognizes places, with no warning at all. She passes a restaurant and remembers eating there with Rachael; she recognizes a view of the river but doesn’t remember _why_ she recognizes it. This isn’t her home. She knows that Portland was her home and that Seattle was Rachael’s because she remembers, sort of vaguely, as if she’s remembering some kind of trauma, the pain of separation. 

She should go right to Rachael. She knows she ought to, because it’s what she came for, and she doesn’t have an unlimited amount of time, but being there, being so close, dissolves all her courage immediately. She walks the city for a while before she gets herself something to eat, and while she eats she stares at the slip of paper with the name and address of her other half until, once again, the pull is too strong to resist.

As soon as she gets to the address she realizes it is not, as she assumed it would be, an apartment. It’s a house, which makes sense in retrospect, because she didn’t have an apartment number- just assumed she’d have to wait outside. The thing is, it’s a _house_ , which means she’s there much faster than she expects to be, and there’s nothing for her to do but stand at the gate for a few minutes and pet the wriggling Weimaraner through the fence as she barks.

If Rachael is home Megan hopes that the barking will bring her outside eventually. It’s easier than opening the gate, risking letting the dog out, and actually making her feet move all the way to the door. The tag on the dog’s collar reads ‘Lucy’, and Megan talks to her soothingly until she figures out that the squirming and barking isn’t supposed to be scary, it’s supposed to be a greeting. The press of a wet nose to the back of her hand brings back a memory of this same dog sitting in her lap like a child, licking her ear and whuffling all over until the petting resumed or she was shoved off the couch. Megan blinks.

The door to the porch opens. 

Rachael doesn’t look up at first, just calls to ‘Luce’ to come to her. Megan is frozen, one hand still over the fence even after the dog leaves her, and then Rachael looks up and Megan is home.

“Hi.”

“Oh, my God.”

Rachel clutches Lucy’s collar, keeping her close. The dog’s confused but good-natured about it, tongue lolling as she looks between them. Megan can’t look directly at Rachael because she’s afraid of what she’s going to see there, so she looks at Rachael’s fingers twisted into the teal collar, and then at the dog, before Rachael speaks again, her voice cracking with a question she’s not quite asking.

“Oh, my God?”

“It’s just me,” Megan says, or tries to, even though it comes out half-whispered, “Just Megan.”

-

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

“It’s not like that,” Megan says patiently.

“Well, what’s it like?”

Megan tucks her socked feet under Lucy’s stomach; the dog snuffles in her sleep but doesn’t move. They’d made it almost thirty minutes without this, and she’s not sure how to approach it even after spending so long thinking about it. She doesn’t understand anything, when she gets right down to it, but she has to try, for Rachael’s sake- for Rachael, who understands even less.

“I woke up on the side of the road. I guess- I mean, I knew right away that I was really hurt. I remember that I tried to move my arm up and couldn’t do it and I had the worst headache, and when I tried to get up I threw up so I just sort of laid there and tried to remember what was going on, but I didn’t remember anything except my name, you know? I wasn’t carrying anything, no way to identify myself, just- I knew my name. And eventually I blacked out again. And when I woke up the second time I was in a bed, and I still didn’t remember anything past my name and waking up the first time, only now I was healed and there were people in the room with me.”

The story isn’t difficult to tell yet, but Rachael’s already uncomfortable imagining it. Megan can tell because there’s no eye contact, just Rachael looking down at her knees.

“How long were you out?”

“That’s the thing. It was just overnight.”

Now Rachael looks up, and Megan entertains as many ways as she possibly can to tell her the truth as she knows it. She has three choices, and one of them is to lie, which she knows she won’t do. 

“The girl who healed me has a superpower. The girl who found me has a superpower. There’s a whole group of women in New York living together who all have superpowers, and I lived with them.” Before the disbelief can even register, Megan jumps to defend herself- “I know it sounds ridiculous, just,”- and Rachael cuts her off, eyebrows raised.

“What’s yours?”

“My what?”

“Your power.”

Megan blinks, but she still answers. Lucy shifts on top of her feet.

“Invisibility.”

“That’s cool. I figured it’d be something like that, some kind of- light manipulation or something, which is probably how it works.”

Rachael stands and digs through a stack of papers on her counter, and Megan sits, dumbfounded, until she can pry her feet out from under the dog and sit up straighter. The realm of ‘weird’ is one she’s used to living in, but this is a little too much. Rachael’s supposed to be shocked or disbelieving or at least angry, but she’s completely fine. Better than fine, actually.

“Wait, you knew?”

She stands, following Rachael, who shakes her head, pushing a stapled sheet into Megan’s hands. 

“Not about yours. I’ve done some studies on mine though, I can make people see things that aren’t there.”

“Back up,” Megan flips through the papers in her hand, “ _You_ have one too? You can- you’re a superhero?”

Rachael takes the papers back and laughs a little, folding them along well-creased lines.

“We’re genetically identical, more or less, so if you have one, I have one.”

“If we’re genetically identical, shouldn’t they be the same?”

“I think they are, technically. See, because what I figured out about mine is that it’s not a mind-bending thing, it’s a light-manipulation thing. For a while I can make people think they’re seeing something that’s not there, but I don’t do it by conjuring something into existence, I do it by messing with the light, like a prism.”

Megan wrinkles her nose.

“Okay, but that doesn’t explain mine, does it?”

“Sure it does. When you become invisible, you’re not actually disappearing- you’re still there. So no matter is being messed with, you’re just bending light around you so that it doesn’t hit you, and if the light doesn’t hit you, it can’t bounce off of you and to someone’s eyes.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah.”

They stand there like that for a minute, maybe, while Megan tries to wrap her head around it. Rachael waits, and when they make eye contact again she goes suddenly, deadly serious. It makes Megan’s stomach drop even before the question comes:

“Have you seen Sarah yet?”

“Sarah?”

“Oh, Megan. Shit. Megs- we buried you. We _buried_ you.”

“Can I call her?”

-

“Here. We can do these two today, then one tomorrow, then one the next day- you know, at random. Not two by two, that’s suspicious, but in groups no larger than three. If we space them out equally we’ll be fine and we’ll be done in two weeks. Three. Three weeks.”

Abby leans over Kelley’s shoulder and reads through the breakdown. She does this by resting both hands on Kelley’s shoulders and bearing down as if Kelley’s shoulders are part of a tabletop. Kelley cranes her neck to watch Abby’s reaction, jiggling her knee under the table.

“This isn’t random at all.”

“The breakdowns aren’t,” Kelley agrees, “but the group numbers are. So, for instance, group one had to be two people. I chose two people that go together in a way that makes sense, so that they’re not randomly getting IDs. They’re a couple.”

Abby presses her lips together, nodding, then lifts her hands and crosses her arms. Kelley knows what _that_ means, and she rushes to defend her choices, striving for approval from Abby personally almost as much as from Christie, by extension.

“So, like, Tobin and Alex go to this guy’s ‘office’, tell him that they’re eloping or whatever and need fake IDs because their families are homophobic and would want to follow and stop them. They get the IDs, their story makes sense and checks out, they have enough cash on them that they’re well-informed customers but not the exact amount, in case the guy raises the price.”

“Okay,” Abby laughs, nudging Kelley’s shoulder, “okay, okay. We’ll try it. They can be the guinea pigs. It’s your job to brief them. I’ll take care of the rest of it.”

-

Sarah picks up on the fourth ring; Rachael hits speakerphone immediately.

“Hey, Rach. Long time no talk.”

The accent surprises Megan, but the voice is so familiar that her heart clenches. Rachael spares her a glance, then clears her throat, looking away.

“Hey. Sarah, can you- do you think you could come over?”

There’s some shuffling, and Megan moves closer to the phone.

“Is everything okay? Are you okay?”

“I’m okay, I’m fine, but I can’t really explain this over the phone.”

“D’you need anything?”

There’s something about their closeness- Rachael’s and Sarah’s- that makes Megan jealous all of a sudden. It’s ridiculous, considering she hardly remembers Sarah at all, but she’s suddenly hoping Rachael’s not similar enough to her for Sarah to feel anything but friendly concern, because some part of her heart that _does_ remember insists that Sarah is hers.

“Can you pick up a pizza? I’ll split the cost.”

“No need. I’ll be there in thirty.”

-

“The word is ‘sophisticated’, okay? Did everyone hear that?”

Lauren kicks HAO under the coffee table.

“The first six times, yes, shut up.”

“Well, it’s taking you forever.”

Syd peers over Lauren’s shoulder, and Lauren holds the cards close to her chest, fixing her couchmate with a frosty glare that makes A-Rod and Jill burst into quiet laughter.

“Look, if you actually think about it, you ruin the whole point of the game. It’s supposed to be funny, you’re not supposed to pick a card that actually fits the word, come _on_.”

HAO shakes her head, and Lauren resists Sydney’s direction, finally picking a card and slapping it down with a flourish. Jill shuffles the three cards without looking and then holds them up and reads them aloud.

“Oscar the Grouch.”

Stifled laughter.

“Lindsay Lohan.”

“Too soon,” HAO says, faux-seriously. Syd snorts.

“Caterpillars.”

“I was imagining, you know- a little caterpillar in a little top hat,” A-Rod explains, when nobody reacts. Syd makes a face and Lauren shakes her head, insisting, “You can’t tell her it was your card, that ruins it.”

“Says the girl who picked ‘black velvet’,” Jill replies, and HAO takes the cards out of her hand to toss them at Lauren. They scatter over the table and Lauren frowns. The entire group is distracted when Tobin and Alex head for the door, bustling in at a page that’s both distracting and intriguing.

“Hurry back!” HAO’s the one to call after them, in a faux-mom voice, clutching her chest, “You know how I worry!”

-

Rachael lets Lucy out first, and Megan watches from the window as the dog runs to Sarah, leaping at her feet and sniffing her pant legs. She’s excited, which means- well, obviously she knows who Sarah is. The thing is, now Megan can’t stop wondering how many times Sarah’s been over since she’s been ‘dead’, and she feels like she’s missed out on something she didn’t even _know_ she was missing out on.

Rachael sort of rushes down the stairs to meet Sarah before she gets to the door, and stops her for a moment, and Megan wishes she could hear them.

“Thanks for coming over.”

Lucy wriggles in between them and plops down so that Sarah can scratch behind her ears, where she likes it.

“Of course,” Sarah says, handing over the pizza, “Hawaiian, I hope all’s okay.”

She’s focusing on Rachael, trying to express her concern, when she catches movement and a shock of blonde hair out of the corner of her eye. Her sudden freeze is too telling, because Rachael reaches for her.

“Sarah-”

But Sarah’s already pushed past her, heading for the door, and Megan figures she might as well meet Sarah on the porch, for whatever reason- it feels right to meet halfway- and Rachael doesn’t get to them before Sarah’s launched herself into Megan, clutching her like a life preserver. 

“You idiot,” she’s laughing through her tears, and Megan blinks but she can’t wipe the smile off of her face, even if she doesn’t get it.

“We buried an empty coffin,” Rachael explains, for the thousandth time, and Sarah says something that sounds like ‘I told you so’, but now her face is buried in Megan’s neck, and Megan’s rubbing her back, and it’s all so familiar that she feels like she ought to sit down.

That’s _before_ Sarah kisses her. It’s just a peck but it shoots through Megan’s veins like fire, and she kisses back just as Sarah starts to pull away from her.

“I told her you weren’t,” Sarah says. It’s interesting to Megan that neither of them has said ‘dead’ this entire time, but she understands; remembers thinking that her friends were dead and wanting more than anything else to avoid the words that would make it all real.

“It’s not like I wanted to believe it,” Rachel grumbles, and Sarah turns to her, smiling, but Megan doesn’t feel the pang of jealousy she expects, because Sarah’s already knotted their fingers together by the time they’re across the threshold.

“If you didn’t die, then what _did_ happen?”

Rachael looks away, busying herself with settling places at her table, and Sarah watches Megan expectantly.

It’s never been harder for Megan to admit that she doesn’t _know_. Not remembering Sarah- because she still doesn’t, really, except in bits and pieces that don’t mean anything- seems worse than disappearing in the first place, like a deeper betrayal.

“It’s a long story.”

-

“It feels so weird,” Tobin says, fingering the soft faux-leather of her wallet, “you know? I haven’t had a wallet since college, pretty much.”

“I feel like a real person again,” Alex agrees. It’s strange what something as simple as a wallet and an ID can do for them, strange how an identity that’s not their own still feels like it validates them. Surrounded by the group it’s easy to forget how isolated they are, as a community, but now it’s put into sharp relief, and although it feels vaguely like a betrayal, Alex is glad to be an individual again. Even an individual with her face but someone else’s name.

She peers over Tobin’s shoulder, bumping into her as they walk and grinning.

“Your name is like out of a romance novel.”

Tobin turns her head to look back and up, to tease Alex back or give her a hard time, but she loses that train of thought entirely. Someone’s behind them. She looks dangerous- she’s not even trying to hide the fact that she’s following them- and Tobin swears that they make eye contact before self-preservation kicks in and she looks back in front of herself.

“What? What is it?”

Alex has caught onto the tension but hasn’t caught onto the urgency until Tobin grabs her hand and squeezes it- their knuckles align and the pressure almost hurts.

“Someone’s following us. We can’t go home as long as she is.”

Alex stiffens, then forces herself to relax. She doesn’t answer right away. Tobin’s right, but there has to be a way around a confrontation. She can handle herself if she has to, but she worries about Tobin, whose power has never led her into combat of any kind. She’s trained in self-defense, of course, but still- it’s not the same, she doesn’t have the experience.

“We can’t go to the police either,” Tobin says, and Alex nods.

“So we lead her into an alley and take her. There’s two of us and one of her.”

Tobin shakes her head.

“That’s too easy- backing ourselves into a corner gives her the advantage and she wouldn’t be following us if she didn’t think she could take us We have to split up.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Alex insists under her breath, and Tobin’s shoulders rise with the suppression of things she knows she shouldn’t say here and now. 

“I can handle myself and so can you. She’ll have to pick someone to follow, see? So the one who doesn’t get followed circles back around and follows _her_. Then the one in front, whoever she decides to follow, leads her into an alley, and we surprise her from behind.”

-

Alex is the one to leave. They stop at an intersection and she leans in to kiss Tobin ‘goodbye’. They put on the act, like a couple who’ll see each other tomorrow or the next day, and then Alex crosses the street and Tobin goes straight. For a few moments it’s impossible to tell which one of them will be followed, and then, when Alex makes a left, Tobin fakes a cough to look over her shoulder and finds that she’s not as alone as she ought to be.

It makes sense; she’s the one heading straight ahead. Her heart jumps anyway, half out of relief for Alex and fear for herself. She focuses on the relief for Alex and puts her trust in the plan and walks on. 

Alex knows that it all depends on whether or not she can follow the follower without getting caught. She circles back around and walks almost directly behind a small family, able to glimpse Tobin and their stalker only between heads. When they cross, she stays as calm as she can and lets her hair down, shrugging out of her sweatshirt. After a block she hands it off to a homeless woman with a smile that’s as forced as it looks.

What feels like hours later, Tobin turns right.

Into an alley.

She stops and turns when she’s safely in, but not before there’s a hand on her upper arm. When she jerks around, her elbow, primed, meets the ribs of the woman assaulting her, and then Alex is with her, at the exact moment she catches sight of the knife.

She can’t get the words out to warn Alex and Alex hasn’t seen it; she’s too focused on the fist she’s blocking to see that knife, and in a rush Tobin can see what’s going to happen as clearly as if it’s already happened: Alex will lift her arm to block the punch, and the knife will find its way between her ribs. Tobin doesn’t have to think.

If one of them has to bleed, it won’t be Alex.

She grabs the wrist of the hand holding the knife, and the punch is blocked, but Alex doesn’t notice what’s wrong until she’s winding back for a hit and the dark-haired woman turns away from her, to Tobin.

It happens in slow motion and all at once, and Alex sees it all in perfect detail, her heart stopping in her chest. Tobin’s hand stays on her attacker’s wrist as that wrist comes forward. The knife sinks in and Tobin falls back, clutching it; the attacker follows, pushing further, and Tobin looks up. 

That split second of eye contact snaps Alex completely.

She screams, tackling the woman to the ground, and all she sees is red.

-

Even in shock Tobin knows not to remove the knife. That’s all she knows, though; all she can remember except that Alex is in danger. It feels like minutes but it’s really only seconds, where she stands sunken against the wall, sliding down, trying to remind herself that there’s a knife in her abdomen. The blood is soaking through her shirt at a rate that she distantly finds alarming. She presses her hands to her stomach around where the knife is lodged, unable to properly feel the pain yet, and realizes belatedly that Alex is coming towards her.

Her nose looks broken. Tobin opens her mouth to say it but the attempt makes her feel like she’s going to pass out; she collapses to the ground, barely stopped by Alex’s arms, and takes a breath that hurts more than anything she’s ever experienced.

-

“Alex-”

“Please don’t, don’t chew me out yet, I’m sorry, I know, but there was nothing else-”

“It’s okay.”

-

Alex is the only one who can get into the hospital, but Rachel’s the one they send to her, the one to lie and say she forgot her wallet at home, to flash a grateful smile when they let her join Alex, if only because she looks about ready to dismantle. They’re not particularly close, but it’s not awkward, the way that Rachel loops an arm around Alex’s shoulders. It’s exactly what she needs, but it doesn’t keep her from crying, instead it _lets_ her cry.

And Rachel doesn’t judge her. They sit in the waiting room and Alex cries herself out into Rachel’s shoulder, and Rachel rubs between her shoulder blades and thinks about the transfusion.

They’ll give Tobin O negative blood because they don’t know her blood type for sure. The problem is that Rachel’s fairly sure whatever gives them their powers is genetic, a mutation or a series of mutations, and there’s a chance that the transfusion won’t take. There’s no way to know what that will do to Tobin’s body. 

She thinks about telling Alex, for half a second, but the thought doesn’t cross her mind again.

-

Sarah’s quiet when Megan’s done telling the story. Once again Rachael makes herself scarce, packing up the leftovers, feeding Lucy, doing whatever she can to stay out of their way. She and Megan are both expecting Sarah to have _something_ to say about it all, but she doesn’t, particularly. 

It’s all a little bit too much, and she’s afraid of what will come out of her mouth if she addresses it. It’s not that she doesn’t believe Megan, it’s that she isn’t sure how to feel, because the months that Megan has been missing are months of Megan’s life that she wasn’t a part of, can’t remember, can’t really understand, even if she tries. The powers don’t shock her. Even Seattle has gotten some tabloids mentioning the rogue superwomen of the East coast, and it doesn’t take too much imagination to put Megan in that group, saving lives and occasionally getting themselves into trouble. Sarah’s grappling with other things, more private things.

“I have some of your things, the stuff we didn’t get want to get rid of,” she says, and Megan looks over her shoulder at Rachael, shrugging.

“I don’t really have the cash for a motel room, so- I mean, if it’s okay-”

And it is okay, actually. Stranger for Sarah than it is for Megan.

It feels right to see Megan walking around their apartment again, even if, as Sarah continues to remind herself, she probably doesn’t realize that they lived together. It feels right but it’s also profoundly wrong, because Sarah has spent months mourning for her, and because this Megan doesn’t seem to know her way around, or know that she can sit wherever she wants. This Megan doesn’t know _her_.

“Do you remember me at all?”

Megan faces her from across the living room, her expression unreadable. Sad, maybe.

“I want to.”

“What _do_ you remember?”

‘I want to’ should be enough, but it isn’t; Sarah wants to know everything and she’s surprised when Megan closes the space between them and pulls her in for a lingering kiss. It feels the same, and Megan parts them long enough to say, “I remember that,” and Sarah lets herself believe it might be true.

-  
Abby loses it. 

When they tell her she stiffens, and Kelley feels a sharp pang of nausea, clutching Hope's arm to keep from passing out right then and there. Abby's entire body goes rigid and tense, and Shannon reaches for her, and it's as if that flips a switch. She jerks away from the contact and whirls around; she's halfway across the room before Shannon can catch up. 

"Abby!"

Out the door, down the stairs. 

"Abby, come on!"

Out the next door, into the yard, her entire being consumed with guilt and fear and anger, her shoulders rising nearly to her ears.

The tension unfurls in one swift kick to the sapling that was supposed to be hers. The pot shatters completely on impact and the sapling itself, roots and all, flies across the yard from the impact, soil scattering everywhere. There are others watching now, from the doorway or near it, but only Shannon is brave enough to grab Abby's upper arm again and face her. 

There's not as much anger in Abby as she expects to see. Maybe because she's been jerked out of the anger by the touch of someone she loves, but regardless all that's there is all-consuming guilt, so raw that _Shannon_ can feel it. 

"If she doesn't make it," Abby says, or chokes, really, "I'm done. You understand? I'll be finished."

"This isn't your fault-"

"I should have gone with them. I was too fucking in my own head to realize how stupid it was to let them go alone and they trusted me."

"It could have been anyone," Shannon tries, touching Abby's wrist. Abby turns away, running her hands through her hair in distress. 

"Exactly! That's exactly my point, it could have been anyone, it could have been you!"

-

"It should have been me," Alex whispers, a few miles away. Tobin's asleep. The tube feeds blood into her arm- blood or poison, Rachel isn't sure- and Alex holds the hand with no IV in it. 

"Don't say that."

"No, it's true. It was supposed to be me. I mean- she went after me, she was going for me. Tobin stopped her."

"She probably saved your life," Rachel says gently, and Alex smiles, but there is bitterness and fear behind the curve of her teeth. Rachel watches Alex’s fingertips skate over the back of Tobin’s hand.

"Do you think it's all connected?"

Alex doesn't have to elaborate; her meaning is obvious: Ashlyn's encounter, Megan's trip, and now this, all of them are grouped together and they both know it. She's hoping this is just a coincidence, but she knows, deep down, that it's not. 

"I don't see how it couldn’t be."

-

Everything comes back but Sarah.

At least, that’s how it feels. Megan wakes up remembering more- middle school, her first kiss, her job- but nothing about Sarah or their life together. She doesn’t mention the new things she remembers, but she’s not sure what to do with herself when Sarah crawls onto the pull-out couch and kisses her. 

She’s attracted to Sarah, of course, and kissing Sarah is fantastic, but there’s something that Sarah’s putting into it that Megan knows she can’t. And there’s a question in the kiss that Megan doesn’t know how to answer, or more accurately doesn’t _want_ to answer. With each moment that Sarah’s hands slide along Megan’s ribs, she’s asking, ‘do you love me?’, and Megan just lets her, just lies there.

She wants to be Sarah’s Megan.

“I probably shouldn’t do this,” Sarah says, sitting back, resting most of her weight on Megan. Megan shifts to rest her weight back on her elbows, frowning a little.

“I mean, it’s not fair, if you don’t remember- then it’s unequal.”

“I’m trying,” Megan says gently, reaching up to move Sarah’s bangs out of her eyes, and Sarah stops that hand with her own.

“I’m not saying it’s your fault. I’m not blaming you, okay? I,” she sighs, rolling off of Megan and onto her back, “love you. And you loved me. But do you see the problem?”

They’re facing each other on their sides, knees close to touching. It feels a bit like an ambush. Megan feels obligated to answer.

“Past tense,” she offers. Sarah deflates as if a pin has been pulled. 

“I need your help,” seems like the next appropriate thing to say.

-

Oddly, it’s Ashlyn who takes it upon herself to clean up Abby’s mess.

Ali finds her in the back ‘yard’, wings tucked tight, a handbroom and a dustpan with her as she does her best to sweep the soil away. Ashlyn’s working hard enough, or is at least focused enough, that she doesn’t notice Ali until she notices the sapling move from the ground. Ali picks it up gingerly, holding the root ball in one hand and the thin trunk in her other, and Ashlyn looks up at her, kneeling in its dirt.

“Do we have another pot?”

They’re both surprised by Kelley, who’s been watching since Ali walked out the door. She doesn’t have to speak loudly for them to hear her; neither of them are sure whether she meant to be heard at all.

“It’s not worth it.”

Ashlyn stands, brushing off her jeans.

“To re-pot?”

“It’ll just die,” Kelley elaborates, the arms of her sweatshirt pulled down to hide her hands, “from the trauma.”

“Shouldn’t we at least give it a chance?”

Ali holds the roughed-up sapling next to the potted one. To her they don’t look much different, but Ashlyn sees it, how the one Ali’s holding seems wilted and fragile next to its counterpart. Still, she’s not entirely sure Kelley’s talking about the plant.

Instead of answering, Kelley shrugs, retreating into the house again. 

They re-pot the plant together without speaking. They don’t have to speak; they can communicate with touch or by looking or not at all. Ali lowers the plant into the pot, where it rests on a preliminary bed of soil, and Ashlyn pours more in until the spidery roots are covered, and packs the soil in. Ali watches Ashlyn’s hands, wonders where she learned this, or if it’s something that never gets learned.

“If you wanted to leave I’d go with you.”

Ashlyn doesn’t look up at first, and it’s almost as if she’s talking to the plant, which, admittedly, is starting to look less sad. Ali doesn’t answer.

“I know I said that before- it’s still true. But I think we owe it to them to be here. I think, you know-” she looks up, and Ali reaches for her, “they need us.”

“Tobin’s gonna be okay,” Ali says.

Ashlyn cries.

-

Kelley won’t let herself.

She doesn’t feel the overwhelming sadness she remembers from the tunnel. It’s different, partially- primarily- because Hope is here, quiet and solid, a hand on her shoulder and a body to lean against. ‘Better’ is the word she wants to use for how she’s coping this round through, but it doesn’t _feel_ better, because where she had felt an excess of emotion during the kidnappings, she feels nothing.

It’s as if there’s a vacuum in her chest.

Hope is terrified by it. Kelley is so distant that it terrifies her, that it makes her think of the girl on the roof, toes over the edge. In a way it’s almost worse, because Kelley doesn’t even seem to care _that_ much. She’s just apathetic. The only things she shows any interest in are eating, sleeping, and physical contact. The last part is what makes Hope feel as if there might be something to hope for, even if Tobin stays in this coma- the one that everyone is calling ‘sleep’ even though it’s been 36 hours. If Kelley keeps reaching for her, keeps finding her hand under the table or her shoulder on the couch or her arms at night, then there’s still a Kelley to hold onto. She’s just started to strike some kind of balance in her mind, trying to figure out how to un-break whatever’s broken in Kelley, when the situation changes all over again.

Visiting hours are over at 8 and it’s 8:17 when Alex busts through the front door and disappears up the stairs. From the kitchen, Kelley looks up, and somehow- almost miraculously, it seems- rouses herself from her seat to follow. Hope doesn’t. Rachel joins them at the table wordlessly, taking Kelley’s chair, resting her face in her hands. Nobody seems to want to ask, but in the end it’s Becky that does, while Christie stands apprehensively in the threshold, watching.

“Is she-?”

“It’s bad,” Rachel says under her breath. Everybody hears it. The room is too silent for them not to have heard her, but a few of them lean in; on her right Amy reaches over and touches her gently.

“She’s- it’s bad. They think it’s sepsis. That’s, you know. Full-body infection. Infection of the blood.”

For a long moment nobody says a word. 

It’s unfair. That’s Hope’s thought, that it’s utterly unfair for _Tobin_ to suffer, after her selflessness and her bravery and her love. Jill says something under her breath that Hope thinks might be praying, and Lauren makes a soft mournful sound like an animal that’s been wounded. A-Rod’s shoulder is the only thing keeping her from crying out loud, and Becky’s courage is gone. She doesn’t want to ask because she’s afraid of the answer.

Abby’s the one to ask, from the threshold behind Christie, her fists clenched at her sides.

“Is she going to make it?”

“If she makes it through tonight, then...maybe.”

Lauren excuses herself with A-Rod barely a step behind her. Abby’s hands go slack against her sides and she drops her eyes and nobody- not even Hope- can think of something to fill the silence.

-

Kelley had expected Alex to cry, but she isn’t. Instead she’s talking, and Kelley doesn’t understand until halfway through the diatribe that Alex is talking about Tobin.

“The nurse said that almost a quarter million people a year get sepsis and a third of them die from it, and it’s good that they caught it early but it happened so fast, and she’d already lost so much blood that she’s at a disadvantage and it doesn’t even seem like the infection came from the wound or anything.”

She takes a breath and lets it out on a choked-out sob that Kelley muffles when she reaches out to pull Alex close to her. They sink onto a bed- the extra bed, Tobin’s old bed- and Alex clings, but fights the crying. Kelley doesn’t ask if Tobin’s going to make it. Nobody can answer that, and asking Alex would be unkind, and anyway she’s caught by surprise when feelings returns full-blast and she realizes what she’s been for the past two days.

Nothing.

Alex has needed her, and she’s been _nothing_ until now.

She rubs Alex’s back, rocking them gently, and eventually she feels Alex’s tears wetting her cheek and hugs tighter.

Kelley lies back and Alex follows, her throat and chest on fire from trying to hold back. Half of her wants to pull away and refuse to let Kelley see her cry like this, but the other half needs someone to hold her and needs to cry the ache out, and that half is more urgent. 

“I’m gonna get your shirt all snotty,” she says on a gasp between sobs, and Kelley squeezes her, silent, but _there_.

-

“What?”

Sarah clears her throat, shifting uncomfortably. When it becomes clear that she’s not up for answering, Rachael, scratching the back of her head, takes it for both of them.

“I think we had both kind of assumed you came back to see _us_. Not to, you know. Break into a government building for classified information.”

“First of all,” Megan says, reaching over the coffee table to place her hands on Rachael’s knees, “I _did_ come back for you. And second of all-”

“I’m not sure I want to hear the ‘second of all’, honestly,” Sarah breaks in. Megan sits back, facing her obstacles, and tries to reorder her thoughts. In hindsight there might have been a better way to tell them- both of them- that she needed them to help her break into her old office. It’s a complicated situation, and the only way she knows how to deal with that is to oversimplify it, and ideally she would have taken more time to get around to it, but she keeps thinking of Lori and her emergency cell phone. There’s an itch she can’t scratch, like something right between her shoulder blades, insisting that they need her.

“Look, I’m sorry. If I had a choice, I’d stay here forever and never even mention digging around for information.”

That’s a lie, but she knows they don’t know that. Sarah might have an inkling, but Rachael accepts it easily, so easily that Megan hurts on her behalf.

“But I don’t- I don’t have time. I have to get back to New York as soon as I figure out whether there’s a connection between my job and what’s going on back there. And it wouldn’t hurt to figure out why I ran off to New York in the first place.”

“You know I’d help you with anything short of murdering someone,” Rachael says, and Sarah sighs, “okay? But you can’t blame me or Sarah for not wanting to let you go again.”

“You can come with me.”

Megan blurts it out without thinking. Neither of them seem especially surprised. Sarah looks at Rachael, and they have an entire silent conversation before either of them says a word to Megan, who can’t decide whether or not to be annoyed.

“I have a job, Megs. And a life. And I love you, but I can’t just uproot to the most expensive city in the country.”

“Sarah?”

“Do you want me to?”

It’s not even a difficult question, and that surprises Megan more than the question itself. She rounds the coffee table and kneels at Sarah’s feet, hands in her lap.

“Of course. Of _course_.”

It’s as if this is what Sarah’s been waiting to hear the entire time. She smiles a little, clearly holding it back, and Megan can’t help feeling relieved that she’s figured out what Sarah wanted, leaning into Sarah’s hand when it strokes through her hair.

Rachael clears her throat.

“Alright. Let’s break you into your own office.”

-

Alex falls asleep in her own bed with Kelley sitting on the edge, rubbing her back and talking to her about idle things. When she finally gets up, Abby’s standing in the doorway; Kelley follows her into the hallway and closes the door behind them without letting herself expect anything at all.

If she had, she would have expected Abby’s guilt.

“I don’t want you to think that this is your fault,” she says, and Kelley breaks off eye contact to look down at her sneakers.

“Kelley, please. Listen to me. Getting the IDs was your idea, and grouping them was your idea, but it was up to me to approve it. I should have told you no.”

“It was a stupid idea,” Kelley replies, but Abby has to lean down to hear it, so she repeats herself.

“It was a stupid idea, okay? Don’t try to convince me that I’m not responsible, I might as well have stabbed her myself. Maybe it was your job to approve the plan, but it was my job to come up with a good one, and I failed. And it might have cost me one of my best friends. So please don’t tell me none of it is my fault, because you’re the only person who really knows how much of it is, so just let me be guilty.”

By the end of it she’s looking up. 

Abby can’t answer without repeating herself, but she wants to try, to try and explain herself and comfort Kelley and tell her that Tobin will make it. Kelley is gone before she can form the words, rounding the corner to where she slips into her own room and into Hope’s arms without another sound.

-

Somewhere around the time Tobin realizes she’s in pain and sweating, she remembers she’s alive. It’s not an easy thing to understand, how she sort of wakes up to remembering her name, and what she looks like, and why she’s in a hospital bed with three IVs in her arm and Alex watching her, slackjawed.

Alex squeezes Tobin’s hand. Tobin remembers she can touch again and squeezes back, but it exhausts her, as if she’s just run a mile. Alex tears up immediately. Tobin licks her lips, shifting to try and sit up, but her abdomen throbs and she stays as still as she can, barely breathing. Something beeps, and Alex squeezes her hand again until she _does_ breathe, and reality comes rushing back in.

“You okay?”

Speaking is difficult; her mouth is dry. 

“Me?”

Alex laughs, but there are still tears in her eyes, and again Tobin tries to move, tries to reach over with her free hand and brush the tears away. She forgets about the IVs until she feels the tension, which grosses her out enough that she drops her hand immediately and grits her teeth.

“Try and sit still, okay, miracle patient?”

Tobin knots her fingers with Alex’s and closes her eyes, murmuring “ ‘kay,” and resigning herself to her current position. She’s lucky to be alive and she knows it, but she doesn’t know much else, and the longer she’s conscious the more the IVs bother her.

“Did she get away?”

When she speaks, her stomach hurts, but what she remembers is Alex’s bloody nose. The nose seems fine now; Tobin imagines that Lauren fixed Alex right up and the thought gives her comfort. Alex is safe and healthy and with her.

“I had to choose whether to chase her or save your life. It wasn’t much of a choice.”

Alex says it with some bite, and Tobin cricks one eye open to see the bitterness on Alex’s face. Fighting the urge to touch Alex more is difficult, but Tobin settles for squeezing her hand again.

“Love you, Al.”

Alex leans over, bracing with her other hand on Tobin’s far side, careful not to hurt her, and kisses Tobin’s forehead.

-

“Well, I guess that explains it.”

The envelope of papers weighs at least three pounds. Megan opens it, flipping through a few packets, both shocked and not at all surprised by the familiar names she sees. Sarah reaches for her, tugging the hem of her shirt.

The alarm has sounded and police are swarming the building; she can hear them coming up the stairs and folds herself into a corner. The window she smashed in a floor down is where they’ll look for fingerprints, but she hasn’t left any, and as much as she’s made fun of Rachael’s stupid Fivefinger shoes, it’s much easier not to leave a trace when she’s in them and not in sneakers. Not that they’d be able to find her by her sneakers, anyway, because she and Sarah will be on their way east in three hours, with no way for anyone but Rachael to find out where they are.

They don’t even come into the office she’s crouched in, because the door is closed, and, of course, they can’t see her. It’s almost comically easy to wait for them to go back downstairs and to walk down after them, balancing on the balls of her feet so that- even if they weren’t clomping around in boots- they wouldn’t hear her behind them. She’s out the door and across the street within an hour of breaking in, and from there, just to be especially safe, she takes a convoluted route- one she’s not sure why she remembers- back to Rachael’s.

Halfway there the curiosity gets the better of her and she ducks into an alleyway to read.

-

“Megan?”

“Lori, holy shit, you are not going to believe this.”

“Are you okay?”

She slips into her own closet, even though she doubts anyone will come into the room looking for her; her shift’s just ended and Megan’s voice is beyond welcome after the hell they’ve been through the past three days. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, I found Rachael and Sarah-”

“Sarah? Abby’s Sarah?”

“No,” Megan laughs, but she sounds out of breath, and instinctively Lori holds her own because some part of her insists that they breathe together, “my girlfriend. Anyway-”

“Girlfriend?”

“I told you I was gay. Apparently I’m _really_ gay. Anyway, Lori, listen…”

And she _is_ listening, but she’s distracted now. Megan’s brushed it off like it’s not a big deal, but Lori can’t help wondering if the previous phone call had been about the girlfriend, too- if Megan ‘coming out’ had really been Megan telling her something else. She’s so absorbed in the idea that she barely hears what Megan says next, until she takes a second, and _really_ hears it:

“Ali and Ashlyn aren’t the exception. They’re the _rule_.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> starting to unravel the truth- their truth.

Megan goes through the whole thing once with Lori but hardly any of it sticks.

“I’m not sure what any of that means,” she says, when Megan’s done and waiting for her to say something. From the other line she can hear someone speaking in the background, maybe to Megan.

“I’m not either. Not yet. Can you get everyone together? 

-

“Ashlyn and Ali have avian DNA as well as human DNA. Theirs was spliced, that’s something we’ve known since the beginning, but what we didn’t know is that we’re _just like them_. We’re all genetically modified. We’re all experiments.

There’s not a lot of details about the process in what I found, but it looks like we were created using our parents’ DNA, the way an artificial insemination happens, and then the embryonic DNA was modified. Some of us have other DNA spliced in. Like Abby’s is carpenter ant DNA, which is why she has superstrength, because carpenter ants can lift like a thousand times their weight or something. HAO’s is cheetah DNA, obviously, and Syd’s is spider DNA, I think wolf spider, but then the rest of us it’s just modification. 

I couldn’t find anything about _why_ they did all this. All I could tell was that they’re not affiliated with the cops, and there’s no company or organization title on anything I found, and Rachael told me I wasn’t ever allowed to tell her what the name was, when I worked for them, and I don’t remember, but I know for a _fact_ that the cops don’t know about it, and it’s possible that the government doesn’t really, either. Some of us were kind of created with the others in mind, too. Like obviously Ashlyn and Ali and their ‘brothers’, but also Tobin, it looks like, was kind of intended as a trump card for the rest of us in case we went rogue, especially for Alex, since she can basically harness any of our powers whenever she wants.

Also...Hope wasn’t ‘created’ like the rest of us. Which is why her power manifested so late. She was the only one of us that was modified postpartum. There was an accident a few years ago and she needed a blood transfusion, so they kept her in a coma for six months while they did whatever they did.

And part of what they did was put a tracker in her arm.”

-

There’s just complete silence for ten solid seconds. Nobody says a word, nobody breathes; it takes Hope that long just to realize that’s _her_ Megan’s talking about, and then one by one everyone turns to look at her, and her stomach drops clear out of her body.

“Is that true?”

Christie’s voice is so level, so unsurprised that it makes Hope tremble. 

“I don’t know.”

The line crackles but Megan doesn’t say anything in her defense. Kelley shifts a little closer, and Hope tries desperately to defend herself: “I don’t know, I don’t remember it happening but I was in a _coma_ for six months, it’s not like they told me what they did!”

“They probably didn’t tell her,” Megan says, cutting into Christie’s reply, “unless they were using her this whole time, I guess. It was probably more like tagging a bird though than bugging her and spying on us.”

“Probably,” Christie murmurs, “am I supposed to bet all our lives on ‘probably’?”

“You can’t send her _away_!”

Nobody speaks. Everyone knows- even Kelley, and especially Hope- that they absolutely _can_ send Hope away. A lot of them are convinced that it’s what they should do. Hope reaches for Kelley’s wrist, and Kelley shakes her off, scrambling to her feet to face off with Christie.

“She didn’t know. You _know_ she didn’t know, she just told you she didn’t, and sending her out there alone will get her killed, and I won’t let you.”

By the end of that Kelley’s on the verge of tears, and pissed about it, well aware that the second she cries her credibility is gone. Everyone more or less knows that they’re sleeping together. Nobody but Tobin and Alex know the actual implications of their relationship, but any second now it’s going to become obvious, and if she’s going to win this argument, she can’t let it.

“Won’t _let_ me?”

Christie’s voice is dangerously quiet. Kelley’s heart sinks as she realizes what she’s done; she doesn’t resist it when Hope reaches for her wrist again. For her part Hope is wracked with guilt so strong she can’t speak over it. All she can do is walk her fingers down Kelley’s wrist and take her hand, unsure whether she’s trying to express gratitude or tell Kelley to sit back down. It’s a little bit of both. Either way, Kelley doesn’t move an inch.

“I didn’t know, but sending me away won’t fix it. If they’re using the tracker then they already know where this is, and I can’t help you if you send me out to be killed. I’d go, and I get it, but I can’t help you dead.”

“I’m not sure you can help us at all,” Christie replies, but it’s obvious to everyone that it hurts her to say it. Kelley, defeated, lets herself be pulled back to her seat. Her hand never leaves Hope’s, and nobody fails to notice them. There’s nothing left but silence, then, and loaded looks, and Kelley’s fingers knotted between Hope’s, until Shannon stands and says, “I think we all need some time to digest,” and most of them scatter within seconds. Kelley plans on staying until Hope drags her away, and she doesn’t resist. She can’t.

Hope has a thing about waiting before she speaks, like she has to be sure Kelley isn’t going to leave first. Mostly it involves sitting alone in their room, very quiet, very still, and Kelley waits, like she always does. The last time she waited like this Hope told her something huge.

Whatever she _is_ expecting, she’s _not_ expecting Hope to cry.

“Hey. Hey- Hope, it’s gonna okay.”

She adjusts on the bed, and Hope sinks down, curling up onto her side with her head in Kelley’s lap and Kelley’s hands clutched in her own, one arm around her, the other beneath her. Kelley takes one hand back and strokes Hope’s hair out of her eyes, fighting back her own tears again, more angrily than before.

“Do you believe me that I didn’t know?”

“Of course,” Kelley replies, maybe too quickly, maybe too vehemently, leaning over to get a look, “of course, Hope, and the rest of them do too, they’re just all, you know, they have a lot to think about. I believe you, I love you, I’m sorry this is happening.”

It’s different to hear ‘I love you’ in the midst of other things. It doesn’t mean any less, but it’s strange, and Hope can’t put a finger on it. She wonders where the tracker is. Maybe the back of her neck, where Kelley’s fingertips rested early that morning. The thought makes her sick, makes her cry again, and she buries her face against Kelley’s legs, still holding onto some semblance of pride even though the fact is that she’s a mess and they both know it. Nobody’s ever seen her like this, as far as she can remember, but then she’s no longer really sure of anything at all.

No, she is. She’s sure she loves Kelley and she’s sure she would never betray her. She’s sure that these women are her family and she’s sure that she’ll do anything she can to keep them safe.

When Hope falls silent Kelley panics a little, craning her neck to try and see the expression on her face. She gets nothing out of it, and that’s how she knows what’s coming.

“Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare walk out of here without me.”

“I didn’t even say anything.”

Hope sits up, displacing Kelley, who’s gone pale, her freckles standing out against her nose and cheeks. It occurs to her for a second to lie, and then she remembers what it felt like to leave Kelley behind for the tunnels and thinks better of it. They’re not the same people anymore. Lying would tear them apart, and as far as she knows, Kelley is all she has left.

“I don’t have a choice. If I don’t leave I’m putting everyone else in danger.”

“They already _know_ that we’re here. The only reason anyone would want you to leave is because they’re scared, it’s not going to fix anything. They know they can trust you. And they’ll remember that eventually.”

Kelley’s speaking too fast for Hope to catch all of it until after, and in the meantime, while she’s trying to make sense of everything, she catches Kelley’s chin between her thumb and forefinger and really _looks_ at her. To Kelley it feels like a goodbye, and she stiffens, tense and frustrated.

“I’m not going to leave you. I’m not going to leave without you. If doing what’s right means losing you, I can absolutely promise that I’m too selfish to do it.”

-

Separating the darks and lights was supposed to be therapeutic. The idea was to get herself alone somewhere she could think without anyone asking her what was wrong and do something to keep her hands busy, to keep from chipping off her own nail polish, or biting her cuticles, or- well, crying. Since that’s what she feels like doing. Therapeutic isn’t working for her. She can’t figure out the shades of gray- why does everyone wear so much fucking _grey_?- and every time she puts one in one pile she feels as if it should be in another, and her hands are shaking so badly that she doesn’t even notice Sydney until the laundry room door closes.

“Al?”

“Just, uh- laundry.”

“Yeah, dude, I can- I can see that.”

Alex has already blown it. She knows before Sydney comes up next to her and sees her shaking hands. It was in her voice and probably all over her body language, and if Sydney asks, she’s not going to be able to stop herself from talking about it. She /needs/ to. And it can’t be Tobin, or Kelley, or Abby.

“So that was a really fucked up phone call.”

Alex barks out a laugh.

“Spider DNA’s not so bad. Abby would probably trade you.”

Syd pops open one of the washers and takes the white pile out of Alex’s hands. Alex watches helplessly, curling her hands into fists.

“It’s just all kind of weird. Like- everything you think you know about yourself, and all of a sudden...it’s weird. Because we come here together, and we learn how to define ourselves as heroes or whatever Christie likes for us to call ourselves, and now we’re experiments?”

Alex feels a wave of panic, but she doesn’t say anything past the lump in her throat. She just watches Syd fill the detergent and start the load going.

“I think it’s all bullshit. Like, I know who I am. You guys taught me that, I know I’m not some kind of tool or whatever. None of us are. And the police think we’re dangerous because they think of us like the people who made us did, you know? But none of us are actually dangerous.”

Alex feels like she might pass out. She’s stopped breathing because she knows that as soon as she lets a breath out she’s going to cry.

“I am,” she blurts, and, just like she expected, the crying starts.

Syd doesn’t say anything at first. She grabs Alex’s hands and unclenches her fists, and digs a napkin out of her back pocket like she was planning for this to happen. Alex takes the napkin, wipes her eyes, and tries to get herself together before Syd starts talking again.

“You really think so?”

Alex nods.

“No, hold on a second. Do you really, _really_ think that you’re dangerous?”

Alex hesitates, remembers her nightmares of blood on her hands, of Tobin’s blood on her hands, and nods again, burying her face into the napkin again.

“Tobin exists _because_ I’m dangerous.”

“Tobin exists because she exists, dude. And even if they thought you were going to be dangerous, why do they have to be right? They haven’t been right about _anything_. They weren’t right about Ashlyn and Ali so the chances that they were right about you are super slim.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without her. I’m afraid of- of who I’d be, if she didn’t-”

“Okay,” Syd deliberates, squeezing Alex’s hands, and Alex is very, very glad for the hum of the laundry machine that drowns them out, “but you don’t need her to keep you from wreaking havoc. Because you didn’t before her, and you wouldn’t now, even if she wasn’t around. And even if you don’t believe me, she _is_ around, so it doesn’t matter.”

Alex shakes her head, but the constriction in her throat is gone, and so is the panic.

Syd lets her breathe for a minute before she reaches for the darks and starts that load in the second washer. Alex is done crying and almost breathing normally when Sydney turns to her, hands on her hips, and makes her cry all over again.

“You can be dangerous and still be a good person.”

-

She stands at the edge of the building, wings tucked in tightly, hands to her sides. Behind her Ashlyn watches but doesn’t say a word, even when Ali shifts her weight and tumbles forward off of the roof, even though her heart leaps forward against her breastbone. She gets to the edge of the roof just in time to see Ali’s wings unfurl, halfway to the ground. It’s a sound like the rustling of sheets, almost, the sudden pressure of wind against feathers; Ali sucks in a deep breath at the exact moment that her wings bring her up again.

She hovers over Ashlyn for a moment, until Ashlyn extends a hand up, and their fingers slide together. Her feet never hit the ground. Instead Ashlyn holds her, holding Ali up with one arm and using her free hand to push the hair out of Ali’s face. The kiss that follows is gentle; an apology and a conversation. 

They’re not alone. With everyone else struggling to come to terms with the truth it’s strange that for them it’s a relief, and both of them know better than to say that out loud, even to each other. 

-

“Hey.”

Tobin turns off the shower at the sound of Alex’s voice and pokes her head out from behind the curtain, face dripping, but smiling all the same. 

“Hey, stranger.”

Alex flips the lid on the toilet seat and sits. Tobin pushes some strands of hair out of her eyes and rests her head against the tiled wall, watching for a moment while Alex wrings her hands.

“Do you need the shower?”

Alex jumps a little, then reddens, and Tobin smiles a little wider at the way the blush creeps up Alex’s neck.

“No, sorry, you can finish.”

“I’m done. Hand me the towel?”

She does, and Tobin disappears behind the curtain again. It’s not opaque and Alex feels a little guilty for watching the silhouette when Tobin bends over and flips her hair forward to dry it, so she looks back at her hands and tries to stop herself from blushing any more than she already is. Her ears are still burning when Tobin steps out in the towel, holding it up with one hand.

“Are you okay? I didn’t see you all afternoon.”

She wriggles into her underwear without taking off the towel, and Alex reaches over to scoop up Tobin’s bra and hand it over before she turns away a little to give some privacy back. Tobin puts the bra back down and reaches for Alex instead, using her free hand to turn Alex’s face toward her.

“Is this about the phone call?”

“I was scared that it meant I was- bad. The fact that you were supposed to be here to stop me from hurting anyone.”

Tobin strokes Alex’s cheek with her thumb but doesn’t say anything at first. There’s enough in her face to speak for her, enough concern in the furrow of her brows before she even opens her mouth to let Alex know how silly she’s being.

“To me it felt more like how I always felt. Like being here with you gave me a purpose, like it feels with everyone else but better. I’m sorry it scared you though. You know you’re not a bad person.”

The tears surprise Alex when she notices her eyes starting to prickle, and she swallows hard, turning away from Tobin’s hand instinctively to try and avoid the feelings that are being dredged up, but Tobin tucks the top of the towel in to hold it in place and kneels at Alex’s feet instead of letting it go.

“You /know/ that, right? You know that’s why I love you.”

She grabs one of Alex’s hands and squeezes until she gets eye contact again, and Alex sniffs, smiling even through the tears she’s determined not to cry.

She doesn’t have to say “thank you” or “I love you, too” because kissing takes care of it all.

Even if she’s not ready to believe it yet.

 

-

“I need to know what you think.”

Abby feels attacked. Being woken up in the middle of the night and hustled into a hotel-lobby-turned-living-room will do that, though, especially being seated on the business side of a concierge desk. Christie shuffles through some paperwork, some incident reports that aren’t even really pertinent, just to have something to do with her hands until Abby speaks.

“About which part?”

It’s a valid question. They’re split, Abby with carpenter ant DNA and Christie with nothing at all to go off of, both of them with plenty to think about. For good reason Christie’s less concerned with her own genetic makeup and more concerned with keeping her family safe, but when she takes a good look at Abby she’s forced to remember that she’s the only one. 

“Hope. I need to know what you think I should do with Hope.”

The first thing Abby thinks of is Kelley. She hadn’t even thought to find Hope and see how she was coping- she’d been too busy dealing with herself, and Kelley had seemed way more upset- but now she feel guilty about it. Christie’s talking about Hope like she’s a problem that needs to be fixed, instead of a woman with feelings and an opinion on where she ends up. And Abby understands _why_ , but she can’t let that go. Not after Hope saved Tobin’s life and helped save her and Alex. 

“I think you need to ask her. And I think you need to take into careful consideration what your ultimate decision is going to do to everyone else, especially Kelley.”

“I wasn’t asking you on your opinion of their relationship.”

Abby straightens a little.

“You can’t just ignore their relationship when you decide whether or not you’re going to kick her out on her own. Kelley’s not going to let you do that- you heard her say it. She can’t stop you from making the decision, but she’s not going to let Hope go alone, because-”

“Because Hope loves her? You think so?”

Abby doesn’t know how to answer. There’s a part of her that really isn’t sure- not that she thinks of Hope as manipulative anymore, just that she knows what it’s like to be lonely, and to want whoever’s around to want you, and it’s occurred to her that Kelley might not realize and Hope wouldn’t want to say. She’s not going to say that out loud, though. Because this isn’t Christie actually thinking critically about Kelley and Hope, it’s Christie’s vendetta against any of them having romantic relationships, and it’s already torn _her_ away from _Sarah_ \- she’ll be damned if she has to see Kelley go through that. Or Hope. Or anybody.

“I think that’s not the point anymore. I think whatever happened with that guy you and Chen always try really hard not to talk about fucked with your head and you’re convinced that none of us can have normal healthy romantic relationships. And I think you’re wrong.”

Christie laughs. 

All the bitterness comes rushing back fresh, like it hasn’t been years and years since Chris was around, and she _laughs_. 

That’s how Abby knows she’s in for it.

“You don’t get to talk to me about healthy relationships.”

“Yeah. Nobody does. That’s your issue. And if you think nobody in this house resents you for being convinced that the people we love are traitors at heart, you’re crazy. Kelley would follow you to the end of the Earth and if you send Hope away you’re going to break her trust in you and lose her.”

The quiet is worse than the laughing was. Just dead silence, Christie gaping at her, and Abby’s heart pounding in her chest. She’s not entirely convinced that she’s actually awake. She’s certainly hoping she isn’t.

“You resent me?”

“Christie-”

“I only- I only ever-”

There’s a break in the middle, where she blinks back her own tears, twice as shocked as Abby that she’s crying, or close to it.

“To protect you,” she manages, reaching up to touch her wet cheeks in astonishment.

Abby reaches across the counter and grabs Christie’s hands away from her face.

“I’m not- I didn’t mean it. I was pissed, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. I know you just want to protect us, I just meant that I don’t want to lose Kelley.”

Slowly and deliberately, Christie takes her hands back. The paperwork at her fingertips she slides across the counter into Abby’s lap.

“Then you figure it out.”

-

She’s never been anything but a liar.

When she was little she lied about little things and the things got bigger as she got older, until she was lying about everything to Adrian, about who she was with, and where she was, and how she felt, until when she finally told him, truthfully, that she wasn’t interested in anyone else, or seeing anyone else, he didn’t believe her- and then she got in that car, and nearly died, and figured, after, that maybe the lying would stop.

Only it hasn’t. She’s just gotten better at it. Better at fooling _herself_.

That night Hope doesn’t sleep. She waits until Kelley does, in her arms, until she moves to get out of bed, completely aware of what she’s about to do, though a part of her is watching as if it’s somebody else and wishing with all of her that something will stop it. Kelley stirs, and Hope feels a shot of adrenaline through her veins as if she’s just been caught in the worst of it. There are still plenty of excuses. She will use them.

Kelley’s half-asleep voice is the only thing that comes close to stopping her, the soft little “Hope?” that she quiets with a kiss to Kelley’s temple.

“Go back to sleep.” 

She minimizes the lying. Doesn’t say she’ll be back, or that she’s sorry, or anything that might arouse suspicion- just gets up and goes. She waits a while in the living room, where Abby has dozed off, the way they all do now, in the middle of their night watches. Kelley never comes looking for her, so she goes. Without a backpack or a change of clothes. She figures they’ll catch her before she’ll need anything.

Abby catches her before they do.

She’s probably two blocks down the street before someone grips her elbow, and because she’s expecting Them she jams it back into Abby’s ribs before she spins around. Abby lets out a surprised huff of air, stumbling backwards and clutching at her side.

“What the _fuck_?”

Hope turns back around and keeps walking, rounding the corner before Abby catches up again and pins her to the wall this time, the confusion and frustration written all over her face.

“What the fuck, Hope? What did you think was going to happen, I was just gonna let you walk out on Kelley like- walk out on _us_? After all of this?”

“I’m doing you a favor,” Hope says, prying Abby’s hands off of her shoulders with the beginnings of a spark in her fingertips, “getting out before you have to make me and doing it so you don’t lose Kelley. You’re welcome. Will you get off of me?”

Abby shoves her again, mostly to shut her up, but she does it a little too hard. Hope winces at the bite of the brick into her back and shoves Abby back.

“I’m trying to help!”

“You’re doing a shitty job! What good would it be for you to leave? You don’t think they already know where we are?”

The first trickle of smoke distracts Abby from continuing her tirade. She can only see it because of the streetlight, but she sees it a split second before she smells it, a split second before the dread hits her low in the stomach as if Hope’s punched her.

“They already _know where we are_.”

By the time they’re back, people are already pouring out of the hotel. Hope’s first instinct is to find Kelley’ Abby’s is to count them, to see who’s missing: Tobin is there, Alex close behind her; Christie, Shannon, Sydney, Barnie, Becky, HAO, Carli, Bue, Amy, A-Rod with Lauren clinging to her, panicking, no doubt remembering the night her parents died. Jill has the police scanner in her arms, and Lori, wild-eyed, says what Abby’s thinking: “Where’s Kelley?”

Hope lunges for the door. Carli grabs her and has to push her back, one hand on her shoulder and one on her side; before anyone says anything else there’s a grizzly where Amy was that shoulders back inside. The smoke starts getting thicker, until Abby’s squinting through it, and Christie starts telling them to go down the block- there’s nothing else to do.

Nobody wants to go without Kelley, Hope least of all. The panic leaves her blind and deaf and unable to focus her eyes on anything but the windows, even with Carli saying again and again that Amy has it, she’ll handle it, and they need to go.

The threat of Kelly leaving her reminds her all over again that she never wanted to leave Kelley in the first place. Never wants to be without her.

“You gotta go. Just a block, okay? You’ll still be able to see.”

She’s limp now. Lets Carli guide her but doesn’t look away from the windows.

Inside Amy uses the bear’s sense of smell to try and find Kelley past the smoke and finds her on the staircase, trapped by some part of the hotel that’s fallen and keeps her from making it the rest of the way down. She’s tried to climb it, but it’s too close to the fire- it takes Amy tossing the chunk of ceiling aside with her bear claws for Kelley to stumble down the rest of the stairs. She’s not hurt, just scared, and bursts out the front door with Amy loping behind her, fur singed but otherwise alright.

Kelley runs right to Hope, who finally gets free of Carli and gathers Kelley into her arms. For the second time that week she’s crying and this time she doesn’t care who sees her. Kelley’s face is pressed into her neck, and she can tell that Kelley’s crying too, seconds before the sirens start.

They don’t have to talk about it. They know they can’t be there when the fire trucks arrive.

The thing they don’t think of right away is that Tobin really can’t run. It certainly doesn’t occur to Abby until she realizes Alex is lagging, trying to stay with Tobin even though everyone else is blocks ahead, following Christie wherever she’s going to lead them under cover of darkness, however long they have before the sun comes up.

“She’s bleeding,” Alex says, tearful, and Tobin waves her off, one hand pressed to her stitches.

“I’ll stay with her. Catch up.”

Alex doesn’t listen until Hope drops back to urge her forward, and then, with two people helping Tobin, and Tobin wordlessly begging her to get ahead, she lengthens her strides.

It’s not just fire trucks.

A Lincoln whizzes by them going the other direction, then screeches to a halt. At the front of the group Christie dives into an alley, knowing without needing to be told that those are the people tracking Hope- tracking _them_.

Hope stops.

Tobin tries to; Abby looks over her shoulder but doesn’t think twice before she grabs Tobin around the waist and tosses her over one shoulder in a firemen’s carry so that she can follow Christie without being too slow. Powers or not. 

Hope thinks of Kelley again only once before she turns and runs down the street, this time with three men at her heels and no way out as long as she still has that tracker in her arm. She can’t hide from them, and she won’t kill them, so her only option is to get them as far from her friends as she can, and give up. They can’t kill her yet.

Maybe they can, but if they do, Kelley will be safe.

The government agents are chasing them still; Abby knows they’re hot on her heels and she stays near the back of the group, still carrying Tobin until she’s close enough to let her down and keep her running. She’s not even thinking about Sarah- about the fact that Sarah might be watching the news, because she always does, or the fact that they’re running down Sarah’s street- because she’s focusing too hard on trying to keep Tobin safe. Behind them their building is burning to the ground. They know that. She and Tobin know that Hope is gone, but nobody else does- as far as most of them are concerned, there’s nothing to go back for and they’re lucky that all of them are together and alive and not too badly injured to move.

“Abby!”

She stops short at the sound of a voice she remembers too well, and a few feet ahead, Shannon stops too- she knows Sarah well enough to.

Abby turns, gaping, panting. Sarah’s standing in the street, gesturing toward her apartment like she’s suggesting the 19 of them might fit in her loft, harbored fugitives. Abby barely opens her mouth to shot back before there’s the screech of tires and the black Lincoln flies around the curb.

Sarah never has a chance.

They stop, the door opens, and Sarah starts running. They’re bigger and faster and Abby lurches forward with a shout at the top of her lungs, barely held back by Shannon’s grip on her upper arm. Sarah’s in handcuffs in a second, wrestled to the ground by a man twice her size, and Abby knows they have to leave but she won’t- she has to get to Sarah- and it takes Shannon’s voice in her ear and two pairs of hands to drag her to safety.

It’s Hope, the other pair of hands- out of nowhere, and Abby can’t ask. They drag her into an empty shipping dock and Abby lunges at the door, still screaming until Hope claps a hand over her mouth and Shannon pins her to the ground with all her weight. 

“You can’t help her,” Shannon says, her hands on Abby’s shoulders, “they have her and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

Hope lets her hand up off of Abby’s mouth once she realizes Abby’s crying. She’s never seen Abby wrecked like this and it scares her more than she thought possible, so bad that her hands start to sweat and her stomach drops and she settles back on her heels. Shannon smooths Abby’s bangs away from her forehead.

“I’ll kill them,” Abby mutters, and Hope clears her throat.

“That’s what they want. I mean, they want you to try. And if you give what they want they want it’ll be over.”

She’s echoing Shannon, mostly just because she feels so useless, but Abby closes her eyes like she’s trying to push the tears back. 

“I wish it was over.”

-

The warehouse Christie takes them to isn’t empty.

It’s _prepared_. There are four couches, a handful of rugs and floor lamps, one rickety table, three cases of water, and a pile of blankets. The door has a lock on it, which Alex assumes only Christie knows the code to. It’s not until they all get inside that she realizes who’s missing.

Hope. Abby. Shannon.

Not Tobin, though, who collapses down on the rug next to her, holding her stitches still, closing her eyes.

“You’re bleeding,” Alex says, hovering over her, and Tobin waves her free hand.

“I’m fine.”

From the couch, Kelley, panting quietly, opens her eyes and realizes what’s wrong.

“Hope?”

Nobody answers. A few of them look around. Lauren’s huddled onto a couch with a blanket around her shoulders and A-Rod speaking quietly to her, in her own terrified little world. Christie’s handing out water.

“We’re missing Hope and Abby and Boxxy.”

“Boxxy knows where to go,” Christie says, finally, handing Kelley a bottle with the cap already loosened.

“Is she with them?”

Tobin speaks from the floor.

“She’s with Abby. Hope went another way to distract the guys chasing us, I think. Someone yelled something at Abby and she and Boxxy stopped.”

Kelley sits up straight, the water in her hand untouched, and nobody wants to make eye contact with her. Christie sits beside her, waiting for her to work it out.

“How is Hope supposed to find us, then?”

“Maybe it’s better if she doesn’t.”

Kelley’s mouth opens in outrage, but Bue intercepts it, swooping in to sit with them.

“I can take the tracker out. If I can find something sharp enough to- you know- and if I can find a way to sterilize it in a fire or something, I know where it is from what Megan said, and I can take it out. If we can find her.”

Christie doesn’t say what she’s thinking- that if Hope finds them first, it’ll already be too late- just nods, silently, sipping her water. She doesn’t want to think about how convenient it would be if Hope couldn’t find them. It makes her sick to her stomach to think that losing Hope is the only way to keep everyone else safe, but if that’s what it takes, she doesn’t have a choice, and at least this way she’s not to blame. 

Kelley doesn’t say anything. Alex scoots closer to her, rubbing her knee, and Rachel goes to Tobin to help her stop the stitches from bleeding. The only sound is A-Rod comforting Lauren in quiet murmurs, and the crinkle of plastic water bottles while everyone recovers from their mad dash to safety, until the door to the warehouse rattles and Christie shoots to her feet.

Shannon peeks through one of the windows and the whole group relaxes.

-

“I don’t have any anesthetic.”

The swiss army knife gleams in the firelight. Hope blinks.

“Alright.”

“It’s going to hurt a lot.”

“I can handle it.”

Christie hands over the crushed water bottles, hair-tied together.

“Am I supposed to bite down on this?”

“You can if you want. Otherwise someone might think we were committing a murder in here.”

“Have the tourniquet ready,” Bue instructs Abby, who nods, the strip of t-shirt in her hands.

The water bottles hurt her teeth when she bites down, but she needs it, and ends up digging her nails into her palms until Abby tugs her shirt over her head and places it in them instead, just short of them starting to bleed. The only thing that’s ever hurt like this were the hours she was trapped in the car waiting to die, and then at least the blood loss kept her semi-conscious- here she’s feeling every second the sharpened pocketknife digs in to her inner arm, and she knows that yelling out isn’t an option.

She starts to sweat five minutes in. Christie doesn’t watch, but Abby keeps eye contact with Hope like she knows she’ll need it. Minutes trickle into what feels like hours of that knife poking around in her muscles, all the while with her groaning and grinding her teeth, twitching and sweating and crying, waiting for it to end.

The tracker falls to the ground.

Bue wipes the knife clean, then holds it over the fire again, and Hope can’t fathom why until she realizes there’s no way for her to have any stitches, and then she closes her eyes and waits for the knife to come back. 

The flat end of it, hot from the fire, sears her skin right over the wound. This time she does yell, but the bottles muffle it, and through the pain she doubts that anyone could blame her.

It’s worth it.

-

Kelley doesn’t leave Hope’s side the rest of the day. HAO tries to get a game of ‘would you rather’ going, but all the gruesome things she can come up with start to hit a little too close to home. Would you rather lose your home in a fire or endure surgery with a blunt knife under no anesthetic? How about both? It doesn’t work well. Nobody really wants to talk.

Abby especially.

Alex noticed right away that something was wrong, the way Abby didn’t say a word to any of them, just sat on the arm of one couch and didn’t move. She still hasn’t, except to drink the water she was given and to check on Cheney, who’s out cold now. It’s probably close to noon, and Alex has started to itch with the need to know what’s going on.

“Are we just going to sit here, or what?”

It’s been so long since anyone spoke out loud that at least half of them jump a little. 

“I mean, we have no food or anything, and we have to figure out a way to make sure Megan knows where to go when she gets back, which should be, like- what, tomorrow? And we should probably be talking about the fact that people are actively chasing us.”

“Food is top priority,” Christie agrees, “but all we have is the card, and I’m not positive it’s not being tracked. We can risk that for a day or two, as long as we shop far from here and only go in pairs, but eventually they’re going to find us like that.”

Ashlyn looks up from her hands from her spot in the middle of the couch, between Lori and Ali.

“Where’s the money coming from?”

Every single one of them is listening intently when Christie shifts and tries to answer. There’s no way around it though, and Shannon expects her to lie again, so when the truth comes out she’s just as shocked as everyone else: “I don’t know.”

Silence.

“It’s a long story, but it was in the hotel when I found it, in an envelope with some cash and my name on it. I never knew how it got there.

“So it’s definitely theirs? I mean, who else would have done that?”

“Hold on,” Hope pipes up, Kelley’s hand still between hers, “doesn’t that mean that they would have known where you all were this whole time? I don’t see how the stupid tracker made a shit of a difference if _they_ gave you the money and the hotel.”

Christie’s jaw is set in a hard line, but Becky’s the one to come to her aid, a little testily.

“None of us even knew ‘they’ existed three days ago.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Ali breaks in, “that’s all over now, anyway. They set fire to the hotel thinking they could flush us out like they were hunting animals or something and didn’t expect there to be a backup plan. They were probably counting on that, on the police, _and_ on Hope’s tracker to keep us from getting off the grid, and we lost all three, but if the card is theirs they know you don’t have any other source of income and they’re going to try to get us to give ourselves up.”

It’s a lot to take in. Ashlyn’s a little stunned at the amount of logic, not because Ali’s not capable of it but just because it reminds her that Ali’s quietude means she’s thinking hard.

“Let them,” Abby mumbles, “I don’t see how we have any other option. We either use the card and get found out or don’t use the card and starve.”

“Or we fight back.”

Abby narrows her eyes, but Shannon’s not done.

“Or, we get Sarah back, find Megan, make a plan, and /fight back/ instead of giving ourselves up like they think we will. _None_ of us are what they thought. That’s the whole reason we’re here. Because they underestimated us.”

-

Phase one is save Sarah. Sarah, Abby’s girlfriend that nobody’s had the guts to mention before.

First they have to figure out where she is. Abby’s not the one who gets to leave, though; Christie chooses Lori and Jill instead, and they wander around looking for somewhere to watch the news without being suspicious. 

“Alright, so going to a bar or something is out, because we’d have to buy something.”

“TV superstore?”

Lori sighs, running a hand through her hair. The temporary phone is heavy in her pocket- she knows she needs to call Megan, and _soon_ , but doesn’t want to give herself away- and she’s distracted enough that Jill just laughs and touches her shoulder.

“No- TV superstore.”

She points. There’s one across the street.

The guy inside is way too helpful. Lori flips through the channels while Jill tries to fend him off by fielding questions she makes up answers to on the spot.

“So what are you looking for exactly?”

“Uh, I mean, it all depends. Lor’s really picky. We’ll probably go through like, all of them, and then she’ll pick one, and then decide on another...we could be here all day.”

“Okay, so like a flatscreen?”

“I dunno. I’m just gonna let her do her thing. I’m the moneybags.”

It’s either the wrong or right thing to say. She’s not sure.

“My moms love this Samsung,” he says, with a conspirational look on his face, like they now have something in common. Lori grunts like she’s not impressed, but really she’s waiting for the news segment on a vandal on the Upper East Side to end.

Jill nods politely.

“How long have you guys been-?”

Oh.

“Three years,” Jill says, as smoothly as possible, but keeping her hands safely in her pockets. She wonders if they smell like smoke. 

“That’s great.”

“Yeah.”

The next segment doesn’t seem promising until Lori catches the little scrolling banner on the bottom:

VIGILANTE SUSPECT ARRESTED, QUESTIONED, RELEASED TO HOSPITAL…

“Do you want to check out something smaller maybe?”

...WITH NO CHARGES; POLICE FACE BRUTALITY CHARGES.

“We’re good,” Lori blurts, panic washing through her, “just decided I don’t want a TV.”

-

She’s lucky enough, or maybe the situation’s just bad enough, that Christie lets her go.

She’s allowed to take someone with her and she picks Tobin, half because she needs the insurance that she won’t break something, and half because she just really needs Tobin with her. It’s something she can’t put a finger on. It might just be Tobin’s outlook- or the fact that Tobin is the only one who doesn’t seem to be actively avoiding her. She knows she’s a wreck. She doesn’t need the constant reminder.

Tobin grabs her hand when they get to the hospital, and it’s so uncharacteristic that Abby jumps.

“What if she’s not there?” Abby croaks. 

Tobin squeezes Abby’s fingers, feeling out of place but doing everything she can to help because she knows that it’s down to her. She hates to think it, but she feels strong like this- supporting someone else- in a way she hasn’t since the kidnappings. She has to be confident that Sarah’s not badly hurt. One of them has to be.

“Then we’ll check her apartment.”

It’s not the answer Abby’s expecting and Tobin knows it’s not the answer to the question that’s really being asked, but it does the trick. Abby lets go of her hand and nods, blinking rapidly, before they cross the street and head into the lobby.

“Is there a Sarah Huffman here?”

Predictably, the woman she’s acting gives her a look through her glasses like she’s not convinced that Abby’s not a criminal. 

“Who’s asking?”

Abby chokes on it because she’s not sure what to say, but Tobin takes it, palms flat on the counter.

“Family.”

-

Somehow Tobin gets them in. Abby suspects that Becky might be hanging around, but she doesn’t care how they get there. 

Sarah looks like a child, swaddled up in blankets the way she is in a bed that seems far too big for her. Her head is tilted toward the window and the light that sneaks through the blinds washes her out, makes her look paler than the off-white sheets. She’s got an arm in a sling, but no IV- she’s asleep

“Sarah?”

She stirs when Abby sits at her bedside, and Tobin stays in the doorway.

Abby reaches out, but she doesn’t reach for Sarah’s hand, she reaches for her face, skimming her fingertips over the crest of her cheekbone and swallowing back the lump in her throat.

“My fault,” she mutters, thinking Sarah’ still asleep, apparently, and Tobin shifts a little, caught between wanting to correct Abby and wanting to blend in and be forgotten.

Sarah turns her head, grabbing Abby’s hand, and Abby presses her lips together hard to keep from crying. 

“Don’t blame yourself,” is the first thing Sarah says and Abby can’t hold the tears back anymore but she wipes at them with the hand that Sarah’s not holding, embarrassed. 

“Please don’t.”

“Stop thinking about me,” Abby replies, “that’s what got you into trouble in the first place.”

“I don’t want to.”

Abby lifts Sarah’s hand to her mouth and kisses it- each knuckle, and then her palm- and Tobin looks away because she feels as if this is a moment she’s not meant to see. She tries to imagine being in Abby’s position but she gets as far as Alex in a hospital bed and decides she’d rather not.

“How bad is it?”

Sarah takes a deep breath, her hand leaving Abby’s to rest back on the sheets.

“It’s just a broken collarbone.”

Abby looks away, then, gritting her teeth so hard that Sarah can hear it, and Tobin wants to cry even though she doesn’t know the woman in the bed past the fact that Abby loves her. 

“It’s not your fault,” Sarah says, “you told me not to watch the news and I did anyway.”

“If you weren’t associated with me this wouldn’t have been an issue to begin with.”

Sarah reaches with her casted wrist to bump the bed up, letting her sit up, and Abby lunges for the little remote but doesn’t get there before Sarah’s fist closes around it.

“Don’t you dare do that to me. Don’t- don’t make this cliche, Abby. We’re not living in a comic book. You can’t just cut off ties and expect that’ll keep me safe.”

“I can.” 

Abby sits back, resolve in the set of her shoulders, and for a heartbeat Tobin thinks they might be leaving.

“I can and I will.”

“The damage is already done.”

Sarah cuts Abby off, but she doesn’t shout. There’s enough force in her voice that it doesn’t need to be loud; it stops Abby cold.

“I’m already hurt. And I’m already associated with you. And I’m not your damsel in distress, okay? I get to make my own decisions. I made the decision to watch the news and I made the decision to go into the street after you and I’m making the decision right now that you’re not allowed to run from me anymore.”

“I wasn’t running from you,” Abby mutters, but Sarah isn’t having it.

“You know what the right thing to do is. The question is whether you have the character to do it.”

“I can’t promise you that you’ll be safe.”

Tobin swallows, thinking of Alex again- of the subway tunnels, and of now, of Alex sequestered in their safehouse and her own inability to enforce that safety with anything but her bare hands.

“I know. I know that, Abby. I knew that when I decided I loved you.”

Tobin ducks out of the room, but she doesn’t go anywhere, just stands in the hall, thinking about how their time is probably running out, how they might be found and taken away any second. Somehow Abby finds it in herself to smile a little, and when she does Sarah reaches out and touches her cheek.

“You made that decision, too, huh?”

“And I’d make it again.”

-

They get Sarah out with no trouble. Becky joins them outside, pale and quiet and with no intent to defending herself, and they stop by Sarah’s apartment before they go to the warehouse. Out of habit the three of them stay a few blocks away while Sarah packs some things, presumably things to help them, like food and blankets. Instead she comes down with a backpack, a sleeping bag, and a duffel that looks full to bursting with canned foods, and Abby gives her a look but gets one back that’s so fierce she doesn’t have the guts to fight it there in front of Tobin and Becky.

“Alright,” Sarah says, letting Abby take the duffle out of her hands, “take me home.”

-

Sarah sleeps almost the whole flight. Megan’s not sure how they got through, with boarding passes but no IDs or anything, except that Rachael walked them through a little door on the side by swiping her shiny badge, and nobody questions it- Megan least of all. It’s almost six hours. They get breakfast after takeoff, and as soon as Sarah’s done with the little bran flakes and blueberry muffin, she tucks her chin into her sweatshirt and is out cold.

Megan watches out the window for a while before she stops pretending it’s not Sarah she’s looking at.

She doesn’t miss Seattle. She doesn’t remember enough of it to miss it, and there’s no room in her to miss anything but the hotel, which is the only place she really knows of as home. She misses Rachael, but that’s been taken care of now, and she was ‘dead’, so her job is a loose end tied up, and so, apparently, are her parents. The only thing she doesn’t have back that she wants back is Sarah.

She wants to remember what it was like before. She wants to remember what loving Sarah was like without letting Sarah know she’s remembering it and not just /feeling/ it, because she doesn’t know a lot, but she knows that Sarah deserves that. That and a good nap without waking up to a crick in her neck.

After some adjustments she reaches over and gently guides Sarah’s head to rest against her shoulder. 

-

Megan calls Lori the second they can find a phone in the airport.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, we’re fine, just landed at JFK.”

“We had a- wait, who?”

Sarah’s got her hands in her pockets; Megan smiles at her and counts the smile she gets in return as the 4th she’s gotten one on one so far.

“Me and Sarah.”

“Uh, okay. The hotel’s gone. Burned to the ground overnight. So you might want to get her a hotel room or something because the rest of us are just sort of living in a warehouse with four couches and some rugs for company.”

It takes her a full ten seconds to make sense of what Lori’s said, and her first reaction is to close her eyes and let her breath out, slowly, taking her time. Like she’ll understand better once there’s nothing in her lungs- but she doesn’t.

“Tell me where to meet you.”

-

“So who was that?”

Megan digs in her backpack for the last little bit of cash she has, peering down the street to try and find a vendor that’s not swarmed.

“That was Lori. I’ll have to introduce you to everyone when we get there, but she’s going to meet us around here and take us to where they’re staying.” 

Sarah reaches for her elbow, and the look on her face suggests maybe this is a good time to slow down. Lori will be there any second, and Megan’s not sure why the thought of that makes her so jittery, but she’s sure that it’s useless. There are bigger things happening right now than her feelings.

“Do you want to stay with us in that warehouse or get a hotel room?”

“I want to stay with _you_.”

-

Everything starts happening all at once.

Megan reappears, led by Lori, with another woman’s hand in hers until she breaks apart to make the rounds of hugs. Ali’s first, and it’s easy to forget that there’s a stranger present until the hugging is done, and then Christie raises her eyebrows a little, and Megan reaches for the stranger’s hand to pull her closer.

“This is Sarah,” she tells them, and she doesn’t really have to say anything else. Ali recognizes what they have, and she’s certain everyone else does, too. There’s no protest from Christie at all, but she doesn’t really say _anything_ , and everything feels scattered and useless again. 

They don’t have to wait long for Tobin and Abby to reappear.

They’ve spread out in the warehouse, so that everyone sort of has their own little spaces- and Alex and Kelley, Hope traveling between them and Carli and Bue; Lauren and A-Rod and Sydney quietly playing cards with a deck fished out of Megan’s backpack; Jill napping, Barnie talking quietly with Amy; HAO sticking by Christie and trying to get her to smile or talk or do _something_ and Shannon pacing.

Ashlyn’s guarding the door, as if that will make a difference if something should happen, and Ali’s resting against her shoulder when the chain rattles and every woman in the building startles into high alert.

“We need a little help,” Abby says, and Ashlyn practically trips over herself letting them in.

Lauren gets to her feet, still shaky but able to stop thinking about the fire for long enough to remember what she’s good for. Tobin slips out the door to give them the space they need, and Alex follows her, wordlessly linking their hands, because it’s important to do, for Tobin’s sake.

Nobody says a word until Abby speaks again.

“This is Sarah,” she says, practically the same way Megan did twenty minutes ago; Megan’s Sarah looks up from the couch puzzled and almost makes some of them laugh.

“Nice to finally meet you,” Lauren says, offering a weak smile, and Sarah shakes her hand with the one not in a sling. Christie makes a move for Abby, who realizes she has no idea what to say and immediately turns back to Sarah; Lauren has a hand under the sling now, on Sarah’s collarbone, and Abby panics. The last thing she wants or needs is for Christie to be /more/ pissed at her. Naturally the first thing out of her mouth is the stupidest.

“Once you’re fixed up you can get back home safe,” she blurts, and everything goes very quiet and very still even _before_ Sarah turns to her, Lauren following, eyes on her work.

“Is that a joke?”

It’s like they’re on stage. Hope comes up behind Ashlyn’s shoulder silently, biting back a grin at the sheer terror on Abby’s face. She likes Sarah a lot already.

“N- you’ll be safer-”

“We just had this discussion. Did you just forget that entire thing? That whole thing about me not letting you make me your damsel in distress?”

Abby colors, glancing around for some kind of help, but half the group won’t look at the dirty laundry being flown like a flag in the middle of the warehouse and the other half look like the might be ready to crack up, even though it’s not funny to /her/ at all.

“No.”

“Alright, good. For a second I thought you were going to pretend that didn’t happen.”

Her face is burning, but Sarah has this look in her eyes that could almost be something playful. Hope is snickering, and mostly Abby’s just _confused_.

“Sorry?”

Lauren withdraws her hand silently and goes back to her spot next to A-Rod. Sarah grabs Abby’s hand and suggests, softly, “introduce me.”

Kelley gets a hug when Sarah reaches her, and she’s glad that Hope doesn’t ask, after. She expects things to get quiet again, but instead it’s like Sarah showing up has made everyone more talkative, and people are even talking to Hope again, like the tracker debacle never happened. Megan’s Sarah suggests they just call her ‘Walshy’ to distinguish between them, and Abby’s Sarah asks, completely seriously, what she can do to help.

The plan starts to form then and there, with Sarah at the center of it.

Abby swears then and there that the moment it’s all over she’s going to make Sarah her wife. 

-

Sarah takes Kelley and Hope with her to the supermarket, and everyone disperses to their corners again, leaving Abby to herself. Christie doesn’t look her way, but Shannon does, and sees her heading over in time to excuse herself. She starts with what she knows needs to be said first.

“I’m sorry.”

Christie takes a sip of water, quirking an eyebrow, but says nothing.

“I was out of line. I was afraid of losing Sarah, and half asleep, and I said stuff I didn’t mean.”

“But was it true?”

They’re speaking quietly, probably only fifty yards from Tobin and Alex, less from Jill and Barnie. Nobody’s watching them but that doesn’t mean nobody’s listening- she’s absolutely sure that they’re on everyones’ radars. And lying isn’t an option: Christie will know.

“I can resent you and still know you’re right. And I can resent you and love you and respect you.”

There’s a draft in the warehouse. Out of the corner of her eye Abby sees Ashlyn flare her wings and back against the door, presumably to keep some head in. When she looks back, Christie’s studying her, picking at the label on her water bottle.

“I wish I could just be your friend. I wish I didn’t have to _lead_ all the time.”

“You are my friend,” Abby says, as quietly as she can, but still reaching out to touch Christie’s knee, “you _are_. You’re a fantastic friend. And I don’t think anyone could lead this group like you have, and I trust you without having to think about it.”

“The plan’s not going to be easy. And there’s probably nothing I can do to keep anyone safe, and there’s a good chance that we’re going to lose somebody, maybe multiple people. Do you still trust me?”

True to her word, Abby doesn’t hesitate.

“Yes.”

There’s no relief in Christie’s face or in her voice when she sighs, “Good. Because I’ll need you.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feelings get hurt.

There are 21 of them in the warehouse, nineteen with powers, two with usable credit cards, one injured, all tired, dirty, hungry, and cold. To Sarah, it’s obvious what the first order of business ought to be.

Megan’s Sarah has gladly taken ‘Walshy’ as her nickname so that the two of them can be told apart, and while Christie, Shannon, and Abby are in a corner talking over logistics of something else- something Sarah’s not quite sure she’ll understand- she takes charge of the others, who watch her with heavy eyes. In one hand she holds her Mastercard between two fingers. 

“I need some volunteers to go with me and get some food. Preferably people who won’t,” she glances at Ali and Ashlyn, smiles, “draw too much attention to themselves.”

Kelley is on her feet in seconds, and Sarah is immediately grateful to have a friendly face offer to go. She’s not certain anyone would have volunteered if Kelley hadn’t, but someone else does, the woman who she eventually remembers as Barnie. She’s not quite a big purple dinosaur, but there’s something soothing about her that makes the comparison seem more apt.

Sarah fishes through her wallet. She hands Kelley her Mastercard and hands Barnie her Amex, and keeps the cash for herself. 

“We can’t all go together. We need to split up. Non-perishables are best. Store brand, too. Go for proteins and carbs, alright?”

They nod in unison. In another time and place the two of them, tall and short, opposites in every way, would have been funny. Right now all Sarah knows is that Abby is planning something- and watching her.

“I can do that, too,” Walshy realizes out loud, disengaging herself from Megan to get up and find her wallet, “what do we need other than food?”

“Blankets,” Becky speaks up, and others murmur in agreement, “lots of cheap toothbrushes, toothpaste in bulk, soap, deodorant.”

Walshy scribbles a list down on the back of a receipt she finds at the bottom of her backpack. She doesn’t ask who wants to come with her- Megan will, whether or not she asks, and Lori seems to hang around like Megan’s shadow, oddly quiet. Lori is quiet out of choice, of course. She’s watching mostly, trying to understand this new version of Megan, trying to pinpoint what Sarah has changed. Megan still hasn’t quite pinpointed it, either, but she feels it. She feels more whole, somehow, even lacking a lot of her memories, and lacking the feelings she _used_ to have for Sarah. She has feelings for Sarah, and she has Sarah, and she has Rachael, across the country, and there’s a plan in the works. It’s inconsiderate, maybe, but she can’t find all that much to worry about in the immediate moment. 

Abby thinks about letting Sarah go without saying anything- she’s still aware of how thin the ice is that she’s been treading since Sarah’s arrest- but she can’t stop herself. She cares too much. That’s always been her problem. But as far as tragic flaws, maybe it’s not so bad. Sarah seems to know she’s coming, hesitates just a little bit in tying her shoes like she knows Abby’s about to come to her. To Abby it feels like permission. She kneels, shooing Sarah’s hands away from her untied sneaker and tying them herself.

“I’m not a child,” Sarah says, but there’s no animosity in her voice, just tired affection.

“This is a weird situation for us, isn’t it?” Abby double knots and gently pulls the laces taut. Her effort in being gentle doesn’t reward her, she needs to retie because she’s forgotten that the warehouse means Tobin is never far enough away to allow her the use of her power unless she leaves. Sarah watches quietly for a moment before she reaches down and pushes Abby’s hair out of her eyes. 

“How so?”

“Well,” Abby tries again, this time using the proper amount of strength but still worried she’s making the shoe too tight, “we’re not used to actually being together anymore. The last time we spent this much time together was ten years ago. So it’s gonna take some getting used to.”

Sarah makes a noncommittal noise. Abby stands, then leans down to kiss her. At the last second she thinks better of it and kisses Sarah’s forehead instead. Sarah touches her arm, as if she’s about to speak, but doesn’t say a word.

“Be careful,” Abby says, and Sarah’s hand leaves her.

-

“Today is Phase One. Today and tonight and tomorrow is the beginning of Phase Two.”

Even Christie knows she sounds like she’s out of a crappy novella. She pushes on anyway, with Shannon and Abby on either side of her- she wishes they weren’t; they look like bodyguards this way- and her hands clasped together to keep herself from wringing them.

“Phase One is just to recoup. We need to sleep right, eat as well as we can, keep ourselves limber and aware, cover every possible outcome while we plan. I’ll explain Phase Two in detail later; if you have complaints direct them at me.”

There’s some scattered murmuring, but nobody has a fully-formed complaint quite yet. Christie waits, just in case, until it looks like they might be expecting more, and then she turns away.

-

Sleep is impossible. Hope knows that before she even tries, and she wouldn’t have tried at all if she didn’t know that Kelley needed her in order to fall asleep in the first place. With the extra blankets it means that there’s one between them and the floor, and one over them, but it also means that if they’re going to share a blanket they have to be touching. Which is, of course, not something that Hope particularly minds. There’s something about having Kelley in her arms like this that makes her feel as if she’s accomplishing something. She is, sort of, if helping Kelley sleep counts. It’s all that counts to her.

She knows that Abby isn’t sleeping either. She’s not sure how she knows, but she knows. She waits, one arm slung around Kelley’s waist, until inevitably she hears someone open and close the door. When she sits up and covers Kelley with the blanket, she doesn’t have to check to know who it is.

She catches Abby’s elbow and gets a swift punch to the gut in retribution before she can get a word out.

“ _Fuck_ ,” she wheezes, and Abby catches her with hands on her biceps before she can crumple. It takes her a solid minute and a half to get her breath back, and Abby doesn’t let go of her. It takes that long for Abby to talk to her, too.

“Don’t surprise me like that. I don’t know what you were expecting.”

“You could have killed me, you f-”

“Well then don’t sneak up on me.”

Hope glares, and Abby lets go of her. For once she’s too tired to say anything more scathing, and Hope gets it. She knows the feeling. Her arm throbs dully from the impromptu surgery and Abby’s grip.

“Kelley can’t know,” she blurts, then lowers her voice and tries again, “you can’t tell her.”

Abby blinks.

“That you were going to leave her?”

“I was-”

“It’s not my place to tell.”

That’s not good enough. Hope can tell, even in what little light there is on the street, that Abby resents her for it. It reminds her of Abby telling her not to fuck around with Kelley even before it had occurred to her to leave, but she’s torn between getting defensive- since that’s what Abby wants- and pretending to own her treachery. She _isn't_ fucking around, and she knows that. She was doing the right thing. And if she got the right idea from what Sarah said to Abby earlier, it’s not as if Abby has any room to judge.

“You’re damn right it isn’t. I was trying to help her. And I don’t care whether or not you agree with what I was doing,” which is a lie, because Abby’s opinion matters to her more than it should, “I just need your word that you won’t tell her anything.”

Abby’s face hardens for a moment, like she’s preparing to get into the argument properly, but then it slackens with exhaustion and she breaks eye contact, shrugging. 

“I told you I wouldn’t and I won’t. I’m not going to break her heart for you, Hope. You’re free to do your own dirty work. All I ask is that you wait until this whole thing is over. And then if we get out alive you can bust up her heart all you want. Just don’t expect me not to come after you for it.”

Hope honestly thinks about letting it go. She could- it doesn’t really matter whether or not Abby believes she has feelings- and she almost does, because she’s exhausted, and she’s going to volunteer anyway and then _maybe_ she’ll be good enough, but at the same time she can’t quite let this go. Not for her sake, for Kelley’s sake. She’s tired of having to prove that they have something real. She’s tired of letting Abby think that Kelley’s naive enough to let herself be taken advantage of. She’s not. And it’s more that than the fact that Abby thinks Hope would take advantage in the first place.

She grabs Abby’s wrist and sparks up without thinking about it. There’s a half a second of that, not enough to burn, before she gets herself under control; Abby hisses and tries to yank her arm away but Tobin’s sleeping by the door, only yards behind them, so of course she can’t quite get free.

“I _love_ her. Alright? And she knows that.”

“Then don’t be so insecure about her finding out. If she knows how you feel, why would it matter if she knew you were leaving? Shouldn’t she get it? If you were really trying to help her, wouldn’t she _get_ it?”

The question isn’t about Kelley. Hope gets pissed for a few seconds, clenching Abby’s wrist, before she gets that. Abby’s far away at first, not quite focusing, and when she does focus on Hope’s face there’s desperation in her eyes that overwhelms anything else. Hope, taken aback, has to slacken her grip on Abby and on the conversation to understand what the real question is. It’s about Sarah, of course. Because, all things considered, their situations really aren’t that different.

Except that Sarah knows Abby was trying to leave her.

“It’s not as simple as that,” Hope says, finally letting go of Abby completely.

“It should be.”

“You’re not allowed to volunteer.”

It’s not a question, because she doesn’t have to ask. It occurs to her right then and there that it’s why Abby is so agitated. She can’t help the way she wants to help, and it’s driving her crazy. Probably the truth is that she doesn’t worry much about Kelley and Hope at all. Probably the truth is that Sarah knows she’d rather put her neck on the line for the team than be safe and stay back and live with survivor’s guilt, and probably Sarah took it too personally, because that’s what happens. Feelings get hurt. 

Abby looks away and crosses her arms. 

“I feel like she’s never going to forgive me for even wanting to. I don’t know how to fix it.Things were easier when I knew she was safe and uninvolved, now I feel like if- when- we both come out of this mess there won’t be anything left to fix.”

She didn’t want to share anything, and she certainly hadn’t wanted to share that much. Talking about it makes her want to cry, and she has to fight back tears in the hopes that it’s not obvious she’s doing it. She’s exhausted, she’s sore, and she can’t figure out what she’s done to make things so stilted. She really, really, really does not want to cry. And especially not in front of Hope.

Hope, who reaches out and touches her again, this time awkwardly, with an intention behind it that she’s never shown before. She’s being gentle. She’s trying to offer _comfort_. Abby would be lying if she said she had even thought that was possible.

“I think you’re trying to get her to forgive you for something she’s already forgiven you for.”

Abby sniffs violently and Hope withdraws, crossing her own arms. The warehouse door creaks open, and they both crane their necks to get an eyeful of Kelley standing there, hair mussed up and half slept-on. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t quite look awake enough to say anything.

“Good talk,” Hope murmurs, but she doesn’t make eye contact again before she follows Kelley back in, because it’s her that Kelley’s come for, because neither of them can sleep without the other anymore. 

Abby watches them go and knows that Sarah’s inside, sleeping just fine.

-

Phase One is regrouping and resting.

Phase Two, two volunteers are sent out and left to be kidnapped, but not _really_ left to be kidnapped. A few of the rest will be watching, making sure they’re sure where the volunteers end up. It’s the volunteers’ job to stay alive for the next couple of hours, however long it takes before Phase Three comes into play.

Phase Three is all in. All in to get the volunteers back and stop the people who created them from whatever it is they have planned. Because whatever it is, it can’t be good.

Whatever it is means death for all of them, eventually. Nobody says it, but they know. Tobin’s healing stab wound, the scar that Kelley ought to have had- they know. 

-

“Before I tell you guys the plan, I have to be completely sure that you won’t breathe a word of it to anyone. Even if you decide not to help me.”

Jill nods seriously, leaning back against the wall of the warehouse. It’s been raining since dawn, and now that it’s nearly noon the puddling is starting to become a problem. These sidewalks aren’t exactly well-kept. The warehouse isn’t, either. Becky raises her eyebrows and doesn’t even bother trying to hide her skepticism, but Heather isn’t deterred. She’d known before the fact that Becky would be harder to convince. She also knows that having Becky on her side will be imperative in order for her to succeed.

“It’s not a bad thing. Just that if you talk about this at all I won’t be able to make it work.”

Becky doesn’t say anything, and Jill has more or less already agreed to keep quiet, so Heather uncrosses her arms and holds her hands out, palms up.

“Tough crowd. Alright, listen. My goal is pretty simple. Protect Cap at all costs.”

“That’s not in any of the phases,” Becky points out helpfully.

“No, it’s not. But it’s also probably not in direct opposition to any of them. Think of it as a sub-phase.”

“What does this sub-phase entail?”

“Well, Phase Three is that we all go in. Everyone, even the Sarahs, right? And I was thinking about, if I had to choose to protect one person and make sure that person gets out fine, who would it be? And of course it was Cap. Because without Cap we’re a random mess. So protecting her is actually protecting her _and_ whoever else makes it out alive, hopefully everyone.”

Becky sighs, pushing her flyaways out of her face, slicked back by the rain that’s impossible to avoid. Jill hasn’t said anything yet, and Heather’s worried she might have lost her. It won’t stop her from trying to carry her plan out, but it’ll make things more difficult, for sure. She turns to Jill first to give Becky a chance to mull it over. 

Jill doesn’t have any issue with Heather’s plan. In her own way, subconsciously, it’s a plan she already had in mind; she knows it wouldn’t have occurred to her to leave Christie alone even for a second in the raid. What she’s trying to puzzle out is why HAO’s chosen _her_ to be there. Becky she understands, Becky is an obvious choice because of her power and her proximity to Cap, but she’s never been all that close to HAO and knows that her power is on the less-impressive side. They’re a family, so of course she _likes_ HAO plenty, loves her, even, the way they all sort of love each other, but she doesn’t get it, and she doesn’t feel right agreeing until she understands why she’s being asked to agree in the first place. But she doesn’t say a word. HAO’s smart enough to know why she’s being quiet, and if she has an answer, it’ll come.

“I could go through the entire list of everyone else and tell you why I didn’t bring them out here. If we had the time, I’d do it, and if I _do_ have the time at any point and you really want to know, I’ll do it for you. Right now it’s gonna have to be good enough that I went through everyone and picked you out of the group.”

It’s flattering, but Jill just blinks. HAO waits for the reply that’s not coming, and when it doesn’t, she sighs and tacks a little more on.

“Because I know I can trust you to keep this quiet, and I have a pretty good feeling that your instinct was more or less the same as mine.”

There’s that quiet, observant intelligence that Jill’s expecting. For all Heather’s bravado, there’s a well of thoughtfulness she draws from that’s surprising unless you know to look for it. Jill grins.

“Alright.”

“Alright?”

“You knew I was gonna do it and you were right.”

Heather turns to Becky, whose skepticism faded the minute she was sure that HAO’s plan was genuine. If she’s being honest, she’s relieved that someone’s thought up- other than her- the idea that Christie is the most important one of them to keep safe and sound. Part of that is selfish- she’s not ready to take Christie’s place- but part of it is deeply selfless, and that’s the part that she taps into, because the selfishness of her own apprehension won’t be something either of them will be able to understand without resenting her. She hesitates, just barely, before she buys in officially.

“I’m in, too, but I’m going to need a list of _my_ admirable attributes by tomorrow morning or else I’ll narc.”

Heather laughs out loud, echoing off the tin and wet pavement, sharp and clear.

On some level they’re aware that it’s the last time for a long time that any of them will hear a sound like it.

-

Phase One isn’t really a phase, it’s a break that none of them asked for. That’s how Alex thinks of it, anyway, as the wait and her aversion to it drives her to chew her fingernails to the quick. She understands the _why_ behind a day or two of rest, but the nature of the thing is terrifying. Spending all the money they have, not planning for the future at all, because no matter which way the other phases end up going, there is no ‘future’ anymore. There will only ever be ‘before’ and ‘after’, and that’s all well and good when you’re in it, but being stuck in the before is agonizing. 

Phase One is all for worrying about Phase Two. For her that means it’s all for worrying about Tobin. Bue comes to check every once in a while on the stitches, which are healing alright but slowly, without Lauren’s help. The rest of the time Alex spends trying to keep Tobin relaxing, which is harder said than done. 

There’s a tension between them now that wasn’t there before. Alex thinks at first that it might just be the lack of privacy- since they’ve never been all that public about their relationship- but eventually she realizes that it’s more than that. She can’t stop worrying about Tobin even if her worry is driving a wedge between them, and she doesn’t know how to apologize for something she isn’t sorry about.

“Will you just- I need to walk around. It’s just as unhealthy for me to not move at all as it would be for me to run a marathon.”

Alex frowns, but Tobin gets up without waiting for her to answer. She stretches, flopping forward like a ragdoll to touch her toes, then clutches her ankles and depends the stretch. All Alex can think of is the stab wound and she clenches her jaw to keep from saying anything about it, sure that Tobin is doing this partially to make a point. It’s not all about tense muscles anymore.

“I’m taking a walk.”

Alex looks closely for any spotting on Tobin’s new t-shirt, but doesn’t see any in the moments before Tobin crosses her arms to block her view.

“I’ll go with you,” she says, but Tobin shakes her head before Alex is even on her feet.

“I’ll take A-Rod. You just chill.”

It shouldn’t hurt as much as it does. Tobin can see that it stings in the way Alex recoils and lets herself sit back again, but she’s thankful when Alex doesn’t try to fight it. She just looks so sad, so incredibly lost for a second, almost like she might cry.Tobin can’t resist bending back down to kiss her, just on the cheek. It’s not quite an apology. It might be an apology for not _having_ the apology that Alex is looking for.

-

Phase Two feels like hand-picking people to sacrifice.

Christie knows that’s not exactly true. For starters, they’re volunteering, and she’ll be picking names out of a hat, or a bag, or something, not picking people out by virtue of their importance to her. That would be impossible. And even though it is, in some ways, very clearly a matter of sacrifice, the goal is obviously to get the two volunteers out unharmed at best and alive at worst.

That doesn’t change how it feels. If she could volunteer, if she could choose to go with them, it might feel better, but they won’t let her go and she hates herself for understanding that. She’d told Shannon and Abby that if she can’t volunteer then they can’t either, purely because she knows she needs them with her, but the more time passes the more she feels like her choice was only selfishness, as if she’s already chosen who will go in and who will stay out. It doesn’t help that she knows Abby resents her for that order. Maybe for every order she’s ever given. Walshy offers her hat, and Christie sets it up by the door, ripping up bits of napkins and receipts and leaving the three pens they’ve scrounged up between the group of them.

For a few minutes nobody moves towards it. Some of them- Kelley most noticeably- seem to be ignoring the fact that it’s there. Others won’t look away from it. Eventually Megan lets herself out from her corner and strides across the warehouse with everyone’s eyes on her. She makes no show about it but she also doesn’t hide it- she scribbles her name down and drops it in the hat. Her name is on the list. Christie finds herself looking to Walshy to see what her reaction is, but there doesn’t seem to be much of one. It’s not particularly surprising. What’s surprising is Lori, nearby and staring very intently at her hands.

There’s no time to think about it. Now that one of them has done it, the rest will start trickling in, inevitably, and it’ll be sooner rather than later that she’ll have to pick two names out of a hat to be a part of their mousetrap.

-

“I’m gonna do it.”

Ashlyn startles when Ali speaks. It’s a low, hissing whisper, one that most of the rest of them wouldn’t be able to understand, even sitting this close. It’s meant just for her to hear. She blinks at Ali, who’s shifted into a crouch. The excitement has turned her feral. It happens every once and a while, when it snows, when they’re in danger, but this time Ashlyn can’t quite appreciate it. That’s only partially because being cooped up like this makes her feel heavy and greasy and empty all at once.

“Do what?”

“Volunteer.”

Through the haze of her entrapment Ashlyn gets a straight jolt of adrenaline and shuffles onto her knees, keeping balance with one wing half out and reaching for Ali’s wrist.

“No. Do you know what that means? If your name gets picked you get shoved back into the same place we came from with the same people who raised- _tortured_ \- us.”

“Not forever. And it’s better if someone goes that knows what to expect.”

Ashlyn tightens her grip, and Ali almost winces. Not that it hurts, just that the constriction of Ashlyn’s fingers around her wrist, the looming metal walls and the darkness all day through...it’s enough. She wants to get out. It’s been days now since she’s flown and the feeling is too familiar. She needs to be doing something, needs to be _helping_.

“No, Ali. I can’t let you do that. Earlier when you said- when you were afraid you couldn’t deal with me putting myself in danger, that’s how I feel too, alright? I can’t lose you. Being without you is like,” she pauses, and lets go of Ali’s hand, letting her own fall limp, “like taking my wings away.”

She’s just kneeling now in the corner of the warehouse, wings out a bit, enough to be at rest, looking harried and lost. Syd’s the closest to them and there’s no guarantee she hasn’t overheard. Even if she hasn’t, her- and anyone else who looked at them- would know right away what they’re arguing about.

Ali drops to her own knees and walks on them to bring them face to face. Instead of reaching for Ashlyn’s face, she reaches for Ashlyn’s shoulders, drawing her fingers through marginal coverts and alular quills, and watching Ashlyn’s face for the moment she starts to relax. She can feel it in Ashlyn’s feathers, too. She knows what Ashlyn’s feeling. She knows that burn and itch that comes from agitation, and she knows that only Ashlyn’s touch calms her, and she knows that the same is true in the other direction. She’s just never tried to use it to her advantage before.

“I just want to help.”

“You can help,” Ashlyn says, reaching for one of Ali’s hands, “you are helping. Just don’t go where I can’t follow you.”

And Ali never puts her name in. She never leaves Ashlyn long enough to.

-

“It just feels too dangerous.”

“Well,” Abby replies, “it _is_ dangerous. But it has to be. There’s no way to do this that isn’t…”

“That’s not what I mean.”

Shannon’s not being quiet enough. Abby nudges her knee, reminding her that, behind the wall they’re sitting against, _anyone_ could be listening to them. It’s necessary that nobody but the three of them- the two of them and Christie- know how reluctant these plans are. If they don’t believe in the plans then the plans won’t work, and they can’t afford that by any stretch of the imagination. Abby’s not used to lying about her feelings. She doesn’t like it, and she doesn’t like being at odds with Shannon, and she doesn’t like the situation with Sarah, that just feels like an itch she can’t take the time or brainpower out of her day to scratch.

“Listen, I’m not happy about it either. If I could I’d go in by myself, but that’s not how this works. The best we can do is trust everyone to be able to take care of themselves. We’re all trained, we’re all powerful, athletic, strong, smart, brave in our own ways. We have to trust that our preparation is enough.”

Shannon drops her head into her hands, smoothing the heels of her hands over her temples. Abby reaches over to touch her shoulder and squeeze it, just with the tips of her fingers, a habit bred out of accidentally bruising herself and her friends for years.

“I don’t want to lose anyone,” Shannon murmurs. “When Tobin- I thought we were going to lose her, and she’s mine to protect, and I couldn’t-”

“She’s not yours to protect, she’s yours to teach.”

Shannon looks up, and Abby slings her arm around Shannon’s shoulders, forgoing the awkward gentleness of a touch to her shoulder for something genuinely comforting.

“I had to learn that with Alex. And I know it’s not easy- it took getting kidnapped with her for me to get it- but it’s something we all have to come to terms with. They’re not our kids, Boxxy, they’re...they’re kids, but they’re also heroes in their own right. And more than capable.”

After a moment of hesitation, Shannon gives in and rests her head on Abby’s shoulder, allowing herself some comfort, if not some peace. It’s been raining for two days. Now it not might be, but the steady drip from the roof of the warehouse doesn’t let them escape completely. Not for the first time, Shannon wonders how long they might stay here before someone stumbled upon them: it’s New York, nothing is ever _really_ abandoned. 

“I’d rather it be me.”

-

Sarah had forseen enough to buy a bunch of classics and bad romance novels from a used book store, two packs of cards, a game of Monopoly and one of Risk. 

It’s not surprising to anyone that nobody touches Risk.

Hope picks out the trashiest of all the romance novels, expecting it to be ridiculous enough to hold her attention. She gets through three pages before Kelley gets bored of the Tobin-Alex-HAO-Pinoe Monopoly game and crawls to her like a cat.

Having Kelley around in situations like this is incredible. It’s like a little pocket of normalcy, like Kelley transcends the tension and awkwardness and the _waiting_. Kelley is just Kelley, is just there, is just everything Hope needs. Hope doesn’t put the book down, just lifts her arms, and Kelley slips beneath them to sit in her lap, the back of her head resting against Hope’s chest. 

She can hear or feel Hope’s heartbeat, and for a moment she considers not speaking at all, just letting things rest as they are.

“Read it out loud,” she suggests, mostly as a joke. Hope sighs.

“...as if he were looking right through her to the past she didn’t want to remember. ‘You tutored me in Shakespeare, right?’ She nodded. To her it had been more than tutoring; it had been bittersweet torture. All those hours of secret yearning, all those lonely nights replaying the sound of Quinn’s deep voice as he’d spoken of love and fate…”

“Okay, stop.”

Hope laughs, putting the book down to one side and pressing her lips against Kelley’s ear. Nobody’s paying much attention to them, not that, at this point in time, she’d care either way.

“It’s been a long time since I heard a deep, manly voice…”

Kelley twists in Hope’s arms.

“I’m not gonna volunteer.”

Hope’s name is already in the hat. She has no way of knowing whether or not Kelley knows this. She had assumed that Kelley would volunteer; had put her name in more or less to be Kelley’s protector, or to hope to be, if Kelley were chosen. There’s nothing to say. She assumes now that if Kelley doesn’t already know then her expression will give her away- and she’s wrong.

“So you don’t have to either. I’m not- I’m done with, for a little while, with putting myself on the very very front line. I think getting shot and then almost dying in a fire-”

“Kelley-”

“-kinda spent me. I don’t want anyone to think of me as a coward, but it’s volunteers only, and it’s not like I wouldn’t have gone if I had been chosen.”

“I get it. It’s okay, I’m…” nobody is watching them, nobody seems to have overheard them. Hope slings an arm around Kelley’s waist and pulls her in closer.

“I’m glad you’re not volunteering.”

It occurs to her, of course, to say something. Kelley is content for the first time in what feels like forever, focusing on Hope’s steady heartbeat and the dry cool air of the warehouse. Hope tries, propping her head up against the corrugated metal behind her, but she keeps missing the moments between heartbeats where the words ought to be leaving her mouth. None of them do. She doesn’t say anything. Somewhere in her brain she’s figuring the mathematics and telling herself that the chances she won’t be picked are much, much greater than the chance that she will. The chance that Kelley will never know is comfortingly high.

And in the meantime there’s the night to enjoy as much as they can, curled together beneath low-thread-count blankets.

-

Tobin knows she’s going to get caught looking at the hat if she doesn’t stop _looking at the hat_ but she can’t stop looking at the hat. She wonders if part of her wants Alex to notice, then realizes how stupid that is and tries to focus again. They’ve been ditched and are now playing one-on-one Monopoly, which is usually intense and especially intense with Alex, but things are muted here. They’re not thinking about the game much. Megan left them to sit with Walshy, who she can’t seem to leave alone for more than twenty minutes. HAO’s making sandwiches. Alex is watching her. She’s thinking about the hat.

“You’re not gonna try and volunteer.”

It’s not even a question. It’s not a command, either, just a sentence, with a flat hard edge that leaves Tobin blinking. Alex knows what that means, what the absence of shock and confusion means, and jumps in again.

“You wouldn’t, that’d be dumb. You know, with a healing stab wound and like seventeen stitches. After pretty much almost dying. You wouldn’t.”

Tobin hates lying. It’s made her sick to lie since she can remember, since she was old enough to understand what a sin was and that lying was one, maybe one of the worst ones she was capable of. A betrayal of the trust of people who love you. In some ways, her minister had argued, it was as bad as murder. She had never agreed with him, and she doesn’t now. That doesn’t make this lie any easier to tell. 

“Of course I wouldn’t.”

Alex relaxes a little, desperate enough to believe the lie but smart enough to be aware it might be one. Tobin stretches a leg out, then nudges Alex’s knee with her foot.

“Especially since I know you wouldn’t either, after that whole...’one of us doesn’t go anywhere dangerous without the other’ thing.”

That’s good enough to distract Alex, who quirks an eyebrow, either out of guilt or annoyance or some mixed-water version of both. It’s Tobin’s trump card, just like Tobin’s injury is hers. Alex eyes the board.

“You’re going to lose,” she says, monotone, “I’m about to bankrupt you no matter what you roll.”

She wonders if Tobin’s going to let her get away with changing the subject. For a second she thinks Tobin’s going to get annoyed with her, but instead there’s a little sigh before Tobin replies.

“I only lose when I let you win.”

Alex never says that she won’t volunteer, because she doesn’t like lying and doesn’t want to do it. Tobin notices. Tobin notices everything. If she hadn’t been ready to volunteer before, knowing with utter certainty that Alex will pushes her to do it, too. She loses the game, just like Alex told her she would. They find a spot behind one of the couches where they can sleep, sharing a blanket and side by side but only touching where they’re holding hands. 

When the hands get sweaty, Tobin takes hers away. Alex shifts and their backs press together. Ten minutes later her breathing has evened out and Tobin knows she’s asleep. Barnie’s awake, first shift watching the door. Tobin can see her through the crack when she steps over sleeping teammates to get to the hat and put her name in, her heart in her throat the whole time, terrified that Alex will wake up and see, but also, in a way, wishing she would.

She doesn’t, of course. Tobin scribbles her name down, her chickenscratch handwriting complicated even further by her shaking hands, crumples the piece of paper up and tosses it in the hat. She exhales when she does, and Barnie hears it. Tobin can see her hearing it. She startles briefly, like she’s thinking about turning around, and then she doesn’t.

She makes a conscious choice not to. She doesn’t know who that breath belongs to, but it doesn’t matter, and turning around will only complicate things. She knows exactly what’s happening. Her name is already in the hat. She’d frankly be surprised if everyone didn’t put their name in the hat. Not disappointed, just surprised, because all of them have something in them that drives them towards sacrifice, towards volunteering to do the dangerous, stupid things that others won’t. It’s why they do what they do. So it doesn’t matter who has just but their name in the hat.

She can’t help but turn around at the last second, thinking that whoever it is will be settled again. By accident she catches Tobin crawling behind the couch and looks away, telling herself that she’ll forget even though she knows that she won’t.

Tobin snakes an arm around Alex’s waist, wriggling under the blankets until she can press her nose against the back of Alex’s neck and inhale. In her sleep Alex moves back against her, and silently Tobin prays that neither of their names will be pulled, or that, if one of them is, the other is, too. She’s still awake when the guard changes. She can tell that it’s Abby because she’s sleeping on the couch, sitting up with her head resting back against the top, with her Sarah’s head in her lap.

Abby’s careful not to wake Sarah up, but she wakes up anyway, in that awkward half-second where her head rests in Abby’s hands as Abby gets up off of the couch. She’s not quite awake- in fact, she’s really not close- and she smiles a little, and Abby almost wishes she could sit back down and hold her some more.

Instead she gets up. She gets up, Barnie retreats to her sleeping space, and Tobin finally, finally falls asleep.

-

The room is completely and utterly silent.

Sydney’s got one of Alex’s hands, their fingers intertwined. Tobin stands on Alex’s other side, far enough away that they’re not touching, but only barely. Kelley’s to her right, with Hope behind her and a comforting hand on the small of her back. Carli’s poking over Hope’s shoulder; Lori and Pinoe and Walshy are grouped to one side with Becky and HAO and Jill and Barnie behind them. Lauren hasn’t spoken for two days, but the way A-Rod is clinging to her arm is enough to suggest they’ve both got their names in the hat. Christie wonders if anyone _hasn’t_ put their name in the hat, and wants to cry. 

Abby clears her throat.

Christie reaches into the hat. Shannon’s holding it for her, but her hands are shaking, and her eyes are closed, and Christie swears she can hear the tick of Abby’s jaw.

“Alex.”

Abby exhales sharply and suddenly but says nothing. Christie glances at Alex, who’s white as a sheet but tipping her chin up like the brave kid she is. Tobin isn’t looking at her. Tobin is trying very hard not to look at her. It’s not a surprise. She knew Alex was going to put her name in, but a part of her had hoped that she wouldn’t, that the talk they had another lifetime ago under the stairwell of HQ actually meant something to her. She’s not surprised that she was wrong, but she hates it, and she’s afraid that if she looks at Alex all Alex will see is that hate. Alex can’t breathe until Sydney squeezes her hand, and when she does her eyes focus on Abby, who is staring so pointedly at her that she almost feels guilty.

Almost. But she doesn’t, because this is no less who she is than it is who Abby is, and she knows that Abby can’t fault her for it, no matter how much she wishes she could. 

Christie reaches into the hat again. Ali stiffens, and Ashlyn notices, but she figures it’s a product of the tension in the room- they’re sensitive to that, after all.

The second name- “Tobin”- and Ali exhales, shaking. Kelley fumbles for Hope’s hand and squeezes it. Alex lets go of Sydney and turns, and everyone else starts to scatter.

Tobin won’t look at her.

“You promised me.”

“I didn’t.”

Alex grabs Tobin’s wrist, trying for eye contact, but Tobin manages to keep looking away ever after she’s turned to face Alex completely. A yawning, gaping _something_ has opened in Alex’s chest, and part of her feels like holding on to Tobin is the only thing keeping her in place. Tobin’s trying not to feel much of anything, but the guilt is creeping in.

“You lied, then.”

“Clearly, yeah.”

“Tobin,” she says, and Tobin finally looks at her, and the tears she’s fighting back are Alex’s, too.

“I knew you were gonna put your name in. You never told me you weren’t going to and I _knew_ you were going to and you said- you said there was no going anywhere dangerous alone. That we would be together if one of us went, and I wasn’t gonna let you just leave me.”

Alex leaps at her and Tobin barely gets her arms around for a hug before the air is being crushed out of her. The stitches ache, but she doesn’t say it. Alex is crying. _She’s_ crying, and surprised that everyone’s just decided to leave them alone.

“Thank you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m going to get us killed.”

“Shut up,” Tobin says into Alex’s neck, and for once Alex listens to her.

-

Abby bolts. She’s halfway down the block before Sarah catches her by the elbow, and she’s already crying. Sarah gets her onto the ground because she’s fighting to get free- she’s surprised how strong Sarah is, but then again Sarah has eaten and slept just fine the past two days, and she hasn’t. 

She also doesn’t particularly want to get free. She lets Sarah best her and tries to be quiet about it when she gets onto her knees and buries her face in Sarah’s collar, choking. Sarah holds her, murmuring again and again that she knows. 

She knows, she knows, she knows. And she is so grateful that Abby’s name wasn’t in it.

-

“You put your name in.”

Ali looks away, and it’s as good as an answer. Ashlyn feels a pang of grief so sudden and sharp that it reminds her of losing Ali- of the days where Ali seemed to hate her, to be disgusted by her- and she has to fight to get breath back into her lungs.

“You were gonna leave me.”

“Not-” Ali turns back to her, surprised all of a sudden by the depth of the hurt on Ashlyn’s face and reaching for her, “no, I wasn’t trying to- it had nothing to do with you. I was just trying to help.”

“I didn’t put my name in because I knew you didn’t want me to.”

“Good,” Ali replies, resolutely, a hand on Ashlyn’s shoulder.

Ashlyn hugs her instead of crying. It’s a maneuver that’s practiced, and not an easy one. Her arms slip beneath Ali’s wings the way nobody else would think to do, and after a second Ali hugs her back with both her arms around Ashlyn’s neck.

It takes everything in her not to apologize.

-

Phase Two starts the next morning.

Nobody sleeps.


End file.
